


A Trail of Destruction

by starsthatburn



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Gun Violence, Hostage Situations, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2019-10-09 14:04:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 39,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17408279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsthatburn/pseuds/starsthatburn
Summary: A hostage situation in City Hall leaves behind a battered, broken sheriff and a mayor wracked with guilt.A rewrite of the 2013 story originally posted on fanfiction.net





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I published this story yeeeears ago on fanfic.net, but I’ve wanted to write a new version to put on AO3 for a while now. Overall this is the same story as the original, but the majority of it will be rewritten and there might be a few minor plot changes here and there. 
> 
> There’s not going to be any updating schedule for this – I might post a new chapter every week, or it might be once a month. It’s just a little side project so I can improve my oldest and dearest fic. 
> 
> If you want to read the completed version, you can find it here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9254493/1/A-Trail-Of-Destruction

"Regina," Emma slammed through the door to the mayor's office with a piece of paper clamped in her first. "What the hell is this?"

Regina looked up from the clock in the corner of her computer screen. Her eyes had been resting there for the past half hour while she'd calmly waited for this conversation to occur.

"I don't know, Miss Swan," she said, reaching for a nearby pile of papers and gathering them into a neat stack. "But it does look an awful lot like the email I sent out this morning."

"Precisely," Emma replied, slapping the paper down on the desk between them. "The email that you sent to everyone on the town council, telling them that I'd run a meeting on crime in the community this afternoon. I did _not_ agree to that."

"And here's me thinking that I'm the mayor, and that I don't actually need your approval before I arrange meetings."

Regina got up and walked over to the nearest filing cabinet as she spoke, turning her back on Emma's seething face.

"Will you cut the crap, please?" Emma snapped. "You know that I wouldn't have agreed to this. I've never run one of these meetings before."

"I also know that you rarely show up to them in the first place, let alone keep your eyes open during the discussion," Regina replied, returning to her desk and sitting down with a satisfied smirk. "I thought the experience might be enlightening for you."

Emma curled her hands around the edge of the desk, leaning forward with her eyes on Regina's obnoxiously rigid frame.

"You're really doing this?" she asked. "You're seriously so hell-bent on punishing me that you're going to force me into it? Just so – what? You can watch me squirm?"

"As much as I know you like to think that everything revolves around you, I'm afraid it's not quite that simple," Regina replied. "We need to have this meeting. There's been a spate of petty crime across Storybrooke and the town council needs to agree on a plan of action. And yes, it does just so happen that you've only been sheriff for a couple of weeks now, but I think you're ready to handle this one on your own. Don't you?"

Emma raised an eyebrow, staring Regina down for a long, long time before she finally said, "…right."

"Besides," Regina continued in her usual clipped tones. "Watching you squirm isn't exactly on my agenda for today. I have a lot of other important business to be getting on with."

A hard muscle was working in Emma's jaw as she processed that.

"You mean, you're not even going to be there?"

"Why would I need to be there?" Regina's brow furrowed in the most infuriating mock confusion Emma had ever seen. "You're mature enough to try and take my son away from me, but you still require babysitting at a simple town meeting?"

"This is ridiculous," Emma said through gritted teeth. "If you want to get back at me that badly, can't you just do what normal people do and slash my tyres, or spread a rumour about me having a drug habit or something? What the hell is setting up a phony town meeting going to accomplish other than making mine and everyone's lives a whole lot more difficult for two hours?"

Regina smiled serenely. "Exactly that, Miss Swan." She allowed herself a moment to enjoy the startled expression on Emma's face before she continued, "It's going to infuriate you. And I enjoy things that infuriate you."

Emma finally took a step back from the desk, clenching her fists like she didn't trust herself not to reach out and wring Regina's neck with them.

"You're pathetic."

"And you're going to be late," Regina replied. "Go on, dear – the meeting's in under an hour. I suggest you go and get some notes together."

For a moment, Emma could only stand there staring back at her. Her jaw was clicking as she struggled to keep her threats and obscenities to herself, and her nails were digging into her palms so angrily that she could feel the skin turning white beneath her touch.

She watched as the smirk on Regina's face flickered and then dropped.

"Miss Swan," she said in her lowest voice. "I'm not playing some game here. If you don't do the meeting, I'll consider that to be a deliberate neglect of duty. And I'm sure you don't want to lose your badge after fighting so hard for it only a few weeks ago, do you?"

A muscle was ticking beneath Emma's eye, and there was a brief second when she considered throwing the towel in completely and just beating the mayor the death with her bare hands. The jail time would be worth it if it meant she wouldn't have to look at her smug face ever again.

But then, with her teeth gritted together and her gaze on Regina until the very last second, she turned and headed for the door. When it slammed shut, Regina finally allowed herself to slump backward.

As she listened to the sound of Emma's footsteps stomping down the hallway, she wished she could be at the meeting after all. It would give her the most perverse pleasure possible to see just how badly it went.

But she'd already decided to go home and work there for the rest of the day to avoid the possibility of Emma storming back into her office and dragging her to the meeting herself, so she sighed and started gathering up her possessions. Before she left, she reached for her cell phone and typed out a message.

_Sidney - there's a town meeting at 1pm. I need you to go and be the note-taker and then report to me afterward._

She'd barely replaced the phone on the desk before it buzzed with a reply.

_Consider it done._

* * *

Emma sat on a bench outside City Hall with her thumb swiping furiously over her phone screen. She'd been Googling discussion topics to do with crime in small communities for the past 15 minutes, but Storybrooke's notoriously bad 4G service was making things a bit difficult for her.

"God damn it," she muttered to herself as she waited for the second page of results to load. Her eyes kept drifting over to the email she'd printed out earlier that day.

_Our newly appointed sheriff, Emma Swan, will be heading up this afternoon's meeting. I have no doubt that this will be eye opening for all involved._

_After recapping last meeting's events, the rising levels of truancy at Storybrooke Elementary and the recurring graffiti at the Storybrooke Cannery are the two main topics to be discussed. Any other issues should be debated as necessary and noted in the meeting's minutes. The sheriff should return these to me by 9am sharp on Monday._

Emma rolled her eyes. Even by Regina's usual standards, this new scheme was a particularly large pain in her ass.

She glanced down at her phone to see that Google had officially failed her, and resigned herself to the fact that it was time to go inside. Speckles of rain were just starting to fall, and she could feel the misty air clinging to her curls. She scooped them up into a ponytail before finally dragging herself to her feet and back toward City Hall. It was nearly one o'clock, and she had to assume that setting up the meeting room would be her job as well.

As she walked down the path, she looked up at the window of the mayor's office: the lights were off. Regina had gone home.

Scrunching up the paper in her fist, she stomped toward the door.

 _Two hours_ , she told herself. _Two hours, and then this'll be over._

* * *

A heavy-set man stood waiting on the other side of the building. From beneath his pale grey baseball cap, he watched as people began to arrive for the meeting. He recognised some of them: teachers from the elementary school, police officers, even the guy who ran the weekly newspaper. Sidney was wearing a long, beige coat and was typing furiously on his phone as he walked, and he didn't notice anyone watching him as he walked through the door.

Small beads of sweat were already forming along the man's greying hairline, and he wiped them away with the edge of his sleeve. A faded badge that read _Game of Thorns_ was stitched onto the breast pocket of his shirt.

He looked up at the yellow building before him and wondered whether the mayor was already in there. He thought about her obnoxious smirk; her regal posture that told everyone just how much better she thought she was than them. He thought about how that would all slip once he turned around and she realised what he was there for.

The two shots of whisky he'd had before he'd left the shop weren't doing anything to still his trembling hands, so he thrust them into his pockets. One knuckle bumped against cold metal.

The clock read five minutes to one when he finally walked inside the building.

* * *

"Archie," Emma said, looking up at the red-headed man who was struggling to fold his umbrella away. "What are you doing here?"

Around them, several workers were still laying out glasses of water and copies of Emma's hurriedly typed agenda. Rows of benches had been set up, and Emma couldn't help but laugh at their optimism when she realised there were enough seats for 50 people. There were only a few minutes left until the meeting was due to start, and only 10 other people were in the room with her.

"The mayor asked me to be here," Archie replied.

"Regina doesn't _ask_ for anything," Emma said dryly, glancing at her notes. She'd briefly considered trying to memorise them until she'd realised that there were only three full sentences written down anyway. 

"She suggested I should be here," Archie corrected himself, leaning on the handle of his umbrella like it was a walking stick. "She thought you might appreciate my opinions on the truancy levels at Storybrooke Elementary given that I have sessions with most of the perpetrators."

"My son included," Emma muttered. "Well, I guess you should take your seat, then. The meeting's about to start and I need to—"

"Excuse me," an unfamiliar voice interrupted her. It was tinged with an accent, and when Emma peered around Archie's shoulder to see where it had come from, she found an older man watching her. His grey cap was pulled down over his forehead, and his eyes were slightly pink.

"Hi," she said, trying to smile. "Are you here for the meeting?"

She recognised the logo on his shirt from the florist across town. Maybe there had been some vandalism down there too.

"Yes," the man said, his voice cracking on that one word. "Is Mayor Mills going to be here for it?"

As soon as she heard that name, Emma's spine went rigid. Her earlier irritation, which had only just begun to fade beneath her panic about the meeting, swelled back up again.

Realising that she had just been handed an opportunity to make another person in town furious at Regina, she smiled sweetly. "Of course she is. No good mayor would ever miss out on something as important as this."

The man nodded sharply, glancing around the room. He was blinking too much.

"Why don't you take a seat?" Emma suggested. "We're going to start soon."

He nodded again and headed for the back row, pulling his cap even lower over his eyes. Emma wrinkled her nose, then walked over to the table at the front of the room. The first two rows of benches were full, but the room felt far too large and echoey. She glanced over at the corner, where Sidney was sitting – he had shown up a minute before Archie offering to take the meeting's notes for her, and although she couldn't understand why he would willingly volunteer to do that, she was glad to have someone on her team for once. He nodded at her, and she took a deep breath.

"Okay, everyone," she said, turning to her audience. "I guess we should… you know. Get this thing started."

She sat down at the desk and faced her sporadically placed onlookers. Most of them she didn't even recognise.

The first five minutes passed painfully slowly. Emma held her useless notes with both hands and bullshitted her way through what she assumed Regina meant by 'recapping the last meeting's events'. She'd been there, as far as she could remember, but she was struggling to recall any of the actual topics that had been discussed. She could feel people watching her as she rambled on uncertainly, and she wished she'd thought to wear her more powerful red armour that morning. Instead, she'd pulled on her brown leather jacket because it had been the closest one to the door, and it wasn't doing a thing to protect her from the room full of steely eyes.

"Now, onto our first point," she said. "Truancy at the elementary school. Dr Hopper is here to—"

"Excuse me."

A voice from the back of the room interrupted her, and Emma lifted her gaze to find that the man from the flower shop was standing up.

"There will be time for questions during the discussion portion of the meeting," Emma said, going back to her notes. "Now, as I was—"

"When is the mayor going to arrive?"

The man was still standing, and his skin had turned a sickly grey colour. Emma sighed.

"Soon. But I doubt she'll appreciate you interrupting her every five seconds any more than I do, so can I ask you to sit down and listen with everybody else?"

He fell silent at once and slumped back down in his chair. Emma rolled her eyes and went back to the meeting, inviting Archie to say his piece. While he talked, she started hurriedly scribbling down some other notes that might help the meeting last more than 15 minutes.

Then Mrs Carter, the school's vice principal, suddenly launched into a tirade of abuse at his calmly voiced suggestion that the 'troubled' children at the school needed to be included more in class activities. The argument passed another five minutes, although Mrs Carter's nasal voice was painful to listen to and Emma felt herself wishing she would just shut up and let the sheriff take over again. She watched as the teacher's face got progressively redder while she defended her school, and she felt suddenly sorry for Mary Margaret for having to deal with her on a daily basis.

Just as she was scribbling down a reminder to herself to buy her roommate a present of some kind, Emma was distracted by a thump from the back of the room. She glanced up to see that the man from the flower shop had stood up again, knocking his bench back in the process, and was waiting for his presence to be registered.

"Sorry," Emma said, raising a hand to stop Mrs Carter's ramblings for a second. "Is there a problem?"

"When is Mayor Mills going to get here?"

A few people in the room sighed, which only made the man twitch angrily. Emma put down her pen.

"Look," she said flatly. "You're clearly not here because you have some serious opinions on the graffiti problem down at the docks. You have an issue with the mayor – which, you know, isn't entirely surprising. But this isn't the place to address that, so I suggest you leave and make an appointment with her like a normal person."

"You said she'd be here," the man snapped. The greyish hue to his skin was turning mauve.

"Yeah, but she's obviously not, so please get out and stop disturbing the rest of us."

He blinked at her, his forehead crumpling. "But—"

"Go," Emma interrupted. "Now."

Heads swivelled as they waited for the man to react. For a moment he simply stood there, clenching and unclenching his fists. Then, with his jaw set in a hard line, he pushed his way out of the benches and started walking toward the door.

"Right," Emma said, shaking her head. She threw a half-hearted smile at Mrs Carter. "Would you like to continue?"

Mrs Carter was looking at her with total disdain, but she turned back to Dr Hopper so she could continue arguing.

Right at that second, Emma's attention was diverted to the back of the room once more. The man had reached the double doors and, with his two shaking fists, was pulling them shut. When he twisted the lock, Emma stood up and slammed her hands down on the table.

"What are you doing?" she asked. The man reached into his pocket before he slowly turned around. Emma felt her heart stop.

The sound of the gunshot rang down the street. A dozen different people immediately dialled the sheriff's number, hearing a click as their calls were rejected by Emma's cell and sent to the emergency back-up team half a mile away instead. 


	2. Chapter 2

Emma's gaze was stuck on the bullet that was now lodged in the ceiling above her. She was the only person left standing – everyone else had dived for the floor as soon as the gun had fired, leaving her alone at the front of the room with the weapon pointed directly at her.

"Look," she said, trying to keep her voice level. "Why don't you calm down, and we can—"

"Where is she?" the man demanded. His outstretched arm was trembling. 

Emma lifted her hands, hoping the gesture would make him think she wasn't armed. In reality, she was thinking about the fact that her own gun was strapped to her hip, and she was wondering whether she could possibly reach it before the man pulled the trigger on his.

"It's okay," she said. "We just need to—"

"You said she was coming! Where is she?"

Emma swallowed, watching the light flicker on the surface of the shaking gun. The man had pushed his hat back from his face, and his pink eyes were wide and unhinged and terrifying.

She knew that if she uttered a single word about Regina having left the building, he'd go right after her. He'd hop into his van before anyone could stop him, and he'd shoot her. He probably wouldn't think twice.

Like hell was she having that on her conscience.

"I don't know," she said. "I'm sorry. I really don't. She said she was coming, but she's obviously been held up."

"Don't lie to me," he snarled. He started walking toward her, the gun still held out, and Emma automatically staggered back a step and collided with her chair. Everyone else in the room shrunk closer to the floor, and to her left she could see Sidney trembling beneath his desk. The only person left facing him was her.

"I'm not lying."

"And I'm not an idiot," he said, holding out his other hand. "Give me your gun."

Emma flinched. The man almost sounded calm until he realised she wasn't moving.

His expression suddenly darkened and he repeated, "Come here and give me the goddamn gun."

With a jolt, Emma forced herself to slide out from behind her desk. As she started walking toward him, she kept her hands held up.

"Mr French," a voice said from the front row. It was Archie – he was still crouching down, and his face was pale and severe. "Moe. Really. You don't have to do this."

"You be quiet," Moe replied, turning back to Emma with his gun still held out. Gritting her teeth, Emma kept walking until she was stood directly in front of him.

Before she could reach for her weapon, Moe stepped forward and grabbed it from her, sliding his free hand beneath her jacket and removing the comforting weight of it from the holster on her hip.

"Good," he said, pocketing it and motioning for Emma to take a step back. "Now we can all wait for Mayor Mills together."

"What if she doesn't come?"

"She will. You said so."

"But what if she doesn't?" Emma insisted. "She's the mayor. She's busy. She might have been called into another meeting."

Moe was watching her with cold eyes that already terrified her.

"Then there's going to be a problem, isn't there?"

The sound of nervous chatter from the street outside suddenly caught their attention. Lights were flashing, and dozens of people had gathered on the street. Emma heard the crackle of a police radio and glanced anxiously back at Moe.

He heard it at the exact same time as her, and his face darkened.

"Goddamn it."

"Moe," Emma said, finally letting her hands fall to her sides. "Look – whatever Regina did, we can fix it. Okay? I promise. We can—"

"You have no idea," he spat at her. "You don't know what she's like."

Emma wrinkled her nose. "Actually, I kind of do. Better than most."

"She's ruined me."

"Even if she has, we can—"

Moe abruptly closed the gap between them. As the rest of the room gasped and shrank back, he wedged the gun up under Emma's chin and watched curiously as she forced herself to stay perfectly still.

"What's she done?" Emma asked. Her voice sounded calm, somehow, and it surprised even her. Moe eyes were watery and deranged up close, and she suddenly realised that she might die that day. 

"My shop," he said. "I'm going to lose it. She's refusing to pay me and I'm going to lose everything."

Emma swallowed. "I don't understand."

"You wouldn't, would you?" he scoffed, pressing the barrel of the gun harder against her chin. "I have a loan with Mr Gold. A loan that needs paying off this week, otherwise he'll take my van and he'll take my shop and I'll be ruined."

"Then surely Mr Gold is the one who—"

"The mayor owes me money," he interrupted, tiny globs of spit raining down on Emma's face. "She employs me to look after her garden. She made me do a week's work – a whole _week_ – and then refused to pay me. I need that money to give to Gold, and she's refusing to hand it over."

Emma couldn't help but scrunch up her forehead. "Why?"

"That bitch says I did a bad job."

In spite of everything, Emma felt a throb of anger at that word. The gun was twisting at the skin beneath her chin and yet she heard herself say, "And did you?"

Moe narrowed his eyes. "No. I didn't."

There was a pause before Emma quietly said, "I wonder why I don't believe you."

Somewhere on the floor, she saw Archie flinch at her stupidity. Emma continued to stare Moe down, waiting for his reaction and half hoping he would snap.

She regretted thinking that the second the butt of the gun whistled through the air. She heard the crack of it against her temple before she felt it.

A gasp shot through the room as she fell to the floor with her hands clutched against the side of her face. The pain was sharp and sudden, and when she opened her eyes the room was too bright. Blood was trickling down into them, but through it she saw someone bearing down on her.

Moe was pointing the gun at her again.

"Get up."

Emma squeezed her eyes shut again and tried to breathe through her teeth. Her temple was throbbing like a shard of metal was wedged into it.

"Go to hell."

Silence met her words, and for a split second she felt proud of herself. Then she realised that Moe was leaning down to meet her.

He grabbed her hair, ignoring her hiss of pain as he tugged her bruised face up toward him.

"Get," he muttered, pressing the gun under her chin again, "up."

Swallowing down the blood that was clinging to the back of her throat, Emma struggled to her feet. When she was finally upright and glaring into his face, Moe smirked.

"Good girl."

He moved behind her, holding the gun out to the back of her head as he finally turned his attention to the rest of the room.

"Now," he said, his voice calm and steady. "This is what's going to happen: we're going to wait here for Mayor Mills together. I don't care how long it takes. Any time anyone says or does anything out of line, the sheriff pays. So, if you all want her in one piece by the end of the day, I suggest you sit quietly and do as I say."

Emma gritted her teeth and tried to ignore the fact that her entire skull was throbbing. Every single person in the room was avoiding eye contact with her, and that only made it hurt more.

Moe stepped closer to her and pressed his mouth against her ear.

"All I want is to have a word with the mayor. So let's get her here, shall we?"

Emma reached up a shaking hand and wiped at her temple. It came back much redder than she'd been expecting.

"Moe," a voice said from the front row. Archie was shakily standing up. "Come on. Why don't you just try and take a deep breath and listen to me?"

"Sit down, Hopper."

"But," Archie said, glancing at Emma and catching the minute shake of her head. "We can talk about this."

"I'm sure we can," Moe said. A sudden, blinding pain took over Emma's entire body as the butt of the gun came down on her again, this time hitting her in the back of her neck. She felt like her spine was being peeled apart as she staggered sideways, hitting the marble floor with her knees. It took every ounce of strength she had not to cry out loud.

Archie went pale, then quietly sat back down again.

Moe stepped closer to Emma and abruptly kicked her, driving the steel toe of his gardening boots into her ribs. She felt a crack just before the rest of her body hit the floor.

Breathing sharply through her teeth, Emma watched as Moe knelt down beside her. The floor was cold against her burning face and she shrunk against it.

"Such authority you have in this town," he muttered. Then a hand was on Emma's face, gently pushing a blonde curl away from her damp forehead. She shuddered. "They really respect you, don't they?"

"Go to hell." The words hissed out of Emma's mouth before she could stop them, and then there was another crack. Her whole skull felt like it was coming apart as Moe's fist thumped down against her face, sending blood streaming out of her nose.

He calmly got back up and turned to the rest of the room.

"I repeat," he said, driving his boot into Emma's ribs once more for good measure. She still refused to cry out properly, but the faintest whimper escaped her lips as she felt another bone snap inside her. "Any time anyone steps out of line – she pays."

The room was eerily quiet, which meant Emma could hear the rustle of Moe's pants as he knelt beside her once more. She kept her eyes squeezed shut and waited for another blow, but instead felt the presence of something being held in front of her face.

She cracked open one swollen eye, expecting to find the gun there, but instead saw her own cell phone.

She swallowed. "What's that for?"

"You're going to call the mayor for me."

"No. Actually, I'm not."

This time the gun did come out, and a second later it was digging into her temple.

"I think you are."

"Bite me, florist," Emma snapped, wriggling away from him. He let her go, watching with some kind of perverse pleasure as she struggled to push herself upright. "Everyone knows that I have my own problems with Regina, but if you actually think I'm going to drag her into this, then you're even crazier than I thought."

"Crazy?" Moe asked, his eyebrows flicking up. "Me?"

Emma felt a sick desire to start laughing: he was kneeling on the floor, a gun in one hand and Emma's blood smeared across the other, and he had the audacity to look confused.

"Don't worry," she said. "I'm sure the psych evaluation they do on you later will clear things up."

As she lifted a hand to cover the throbbing lump on her temple, Moe sneered at her. It was the ugliest thing she'd ever seen.

"Well, I guess that's something for us all to look forward to," he said. "But for now – call her."

"No."

"You really think you're in a position to say no to me?"

"What, just because you've got a gun? That doesn't scare me, French. If that's your only bargaining chip then you might as well shoot me now, because I'm not calling her."

Moe's jaw clenched beneath his jowls. The room waited as he decided what to do.

And then the gun was pointing at Sidney. Emma felt her heart stop.

"I think you will," Moe said calmly. "Do it. Now."

He was holding out her cell, but Emma couldn't take it. Her body wouldn't let her. She turned to look at Sidney, who was the one person in that room whom she knew was on her side – her ally, he'd called himself that night in Granny's only a few weeks ago – but she still couldn't reach out and take the damn phone.

Moe growled and got to his feet, closing the gap between them. When he was standing directly in front of her, he opened Emma's phone and scrolled until he found Regina's number.

Out the corner of her eye, Emma thought she saw Sidney scrub a tear away from his cheek.

Through the haze inside her head, Emma realised that Moe was calling Regina. He crouched down in front of her and pressed the phone against her ear, watching her steadily.

Emma prayed that Regina wouldn't answer. But, as usual, the mayor was intent on being as irritating as possible, and she picked up after two rings.

"Sheriff Swan," she said cheerfully. Moe grinned when he heard her voice. "Are you already struggling with your one, simple task?"

Emma reached up to take the phone out of Moe's grip. "Regina. I… need you to come to the meeting. Please."

Regina, sitting in her study at home, lounged back in her chair and smiled. "And why would I do that, dear?"

"Because," Emma said. Her eyes were on the gun that was still pointing in Sidney's direction. "I just need some help with it."

Regina blinked. She thought she'd heard Emma's voice crack.

"You're asking me for help running the meeting?"

"Yes," Emma said. "Please."

There was a long pause before Regina said, "But you don't ask for my help."

Moe heard this all too clearly, and he released the safety catch on the gun. Emma's entire body flinched at the sound.

When she didn't get a reply, Regina asked, "Emma? What's happened?"

"Nothing's happened," Emma said quickly, trying to keep her voice level. "There's just… There's a lot of people here and they're asking questions that I can't… I just need your help."

An alarm was blaring in Regina's head. Her phone had been ringing for the past half hour, but she'd decided to ignore the calls. She'd been busy with her work and she'd assumed it would probably be Sidney already calling with an update on the worst town council meeting in history, so she'd decided to let him stew.

Now, though, she wasn't so sure.

"Miss Swan, is everything okay?" she asked, pressing the phone closer to her ear. The room at the other end of the line was silent, but she could hear Emma's frantic breathing. There was a hitch every few seconds, like she was struggling to get air into her lungs.

"Everything's fine."

"Are you sure? You sound strange."

"Everything's fine, Regina, now will you please come to the goddamn meeting?"

Emma wiped more blood away from her nose with a shaking hand and waited. Moe was still pointing the gun at Sidney.

Eventually, Regina exhaled. When she spoke, her voice was quiet.

"Emma. I want you to cough if something's wrong."

Emma kept her gaze on Moe's face, waiting for a sign that he might have heard that. His expression didn't waver.

"Everything's okay. I promise," Emma said. Then, quietly, she cleared her throat.

Regina's heart stopped. "I'm calling the police."

This, Moe heard. His face darkened.

Before Emma could say anything else, Regina heard a sharp cry followed by a bang. It sounded like a gun going off. A second later, the line went dead.

Regina jumped to her feet and grabbed her keys. As she ran for the door, she finally checked her voicemail, her heart rate quickening as she listened to all the frantic messages that the police department had been leaving her for the past half hour.

* * *

Emma had never known pain like it. It felt like a knife was in her shoulder and it was being twisted round and round and round.

She clamped her hand over it, trying to ignore the fact that the whole area was burning hot, as she fought to stop the blood oozing out. Moe was standing over her, his face purple with rage.

"Useless," he hissed. He kicked her in the ribs yet again, but Emma was beyond noticing it. Everything was hazy and white and she'd reached a level of pain that made another broken rib feel like a pinch. "You're  _useless._ "

Swallowing through the water that was filling her mouth, Emma mumbled, "It's not my fault she didn't buy it."

"Who else's fault is it?" he demanded, pointing the gun at her again. It was laughable that he thought he was still able to hurt her. "The only person we have to blame for this, Sheriff, is you."

When she didn't even flinch – just kept on squeezing her shoulder in a futile bid to stop the bullet hole from bleeding any more – he growled and brushed past her. He started pacing the front of the room like a wild animal, his eyes flashing and his skin gradually turning pale again. Outside, there were more and more people, more and more sirens. He was trapped, and it was all the goddamn sheriff's fault.

He turned back to her, fury searing at his skin, and raised the gun once more. If he hadn't managed to get to the mayor, maybe her blonde sidekick would have to do instead.

As he turned his back to the rest of the room, Archie quietly rose from the floor. His hands were shaking as he picked up his black umbrella.

The heavy wooden handle hit the back of Moe's head with a crack. Moe staggered sideways, not hitting the floor but barely remaining on his feet. A second later, the rest of the room sprang into action – 10 people leapt up and followed Archie, ripping the gun from Moe's hand and dragging him to the floor. Five feet away, Emma watched through bleary eyes. Everything was shivering. She thought she might already be dead.

Then the gun skidded toward her and she grabbed it, shaking her head to get rid of some of the haze as she watched three men pinning Moe to the ground with his hands behind his back. They were almost brown from Emma's dried blood, and she looked away, suddenly realising that she might vomit. Behind her, Sidney was clambering to his feet.

"Emma," he hissed, reaching her side. He held out one hand like he was going to try and dab away some of the blood from Emma's nose or temple, but then he saw her shoulder properly. He went white.

"My phone," Emma said. It felt like she was trying to speak around a mouthful of marbles. "Find it and call Bill from the emergency team. He'll be outside."

Sidney scrabbled across the floor for her cell and did as he was told. As he spoke to the people waiting outside, Emma dragged her gaze from him and back over to Moe. He was watching her. The gun hung between them, and he threw her a sadistic grin that told Emma he was still pretty sure that he'd won.

Outside, they could hear people jumping into action. Radios were crackling and people were hurrying toward the building. Emma swallowed down the bile in her throat and told herself it was just two more minutes – two more minutes and then they'd be inside and someone would finally knock her out for good.

She lifted her gaze and found a handful of people already watching her. They each looked frightened and shocked and, weirdly, a little ashamed. No one made a move to crawl over to her, but Emma was grateful. If she felt another person's hands on her then she was pretty sure she would scream.

It was a blinding relief when she heard a dozen sets of feet trampling down the corridor toward them. A few seconds later, the glass in the locked doors was being smashed, and Emma could finally allow herself to close her eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

Regina leaned back in her chair, folding her hands in her lap. Sidney was twitching anxiously in the seat opposite her. There were tiny beads of sweat pricking up along his hairline, and he hadn't said a word since he'd sat down.

"Can I get you a drink?" Regina asked after a deliberately lengthy pause.

Sidney blinked. "I'm good, thanks."

"Are you sure? You look rather… dehydrated."

"No, thank you. I'm fine," Sidney replied, wetting his lips. "Regina, why am I here?"

Regina offered him a tiny, tight smile. "I wanted to check you're okay."

"I'm… fine."

"Good. I'm relieved to hear it," she replied. "But you know, Sidney, you really should try and talk about what happened. If you need an ear – well. I'm right here."

His eyes immediately narrowed. Regina's teeth were showing from between her red-painted lips, and they made him feel like he was a mouse being cornered by an animal much smarter than him.

"You want me to tell you about the… meeting?" he clarified. It had been three days since the incident in City Hall, and this was the first time she'd even acknowledged it.

"Of course," Regina replied, tilting her head to one side. "Why wouldn't I? You went through something traumatic, and I want to make sure you're coping."

"I'm fine," he repeated.

"So you've said, but I still think it would be healthy for you to get it off your chest."

"Regina, I—"

"Sidney," Regina interrupted, her smile only flickering for a second. "I'd like you to tell me what happened."

Sidney recognised the tone of a woman who wouldn't stop until she got what she wanted, so he slumped back with a sigh.

"You really don't know anything about it?"

"I know the basics, but otherwise the police were fairly unhelpful in providing any real detail," Regina said. "Apparently they don't think the mayor needs to kept in the loop when half her town council is taken hostage."

There was a pause. Sidney shifted in his seat.

"It was your gardener," he offered eventually. "Moe someone. He owns Game of Thorns."

"Yes – thank you, Sidney, I am aware of that much. I was there to witness him being dragged out of the building in handcuffs."

"You were there?" Sidney asked. "Then surely you must know—"

"Continue," Regina interrupted. She was fighting to ignore the image that had been flashing up in front of her eyes for the past three days – the one of a blonde woman strapped to a stretcher, not stirring even as she'd been thrust into a waiting ambulance.

Sidney swallowed. "He was in the meeting, waiting for you. Emma told him to leave. And then… I don't know, Madam Mayor. The gun came out and everyone was on the floor, except for her."

"Except for Emma," Regina clarified, even though it was unnecessary. She could still see Emma's blood-streaked face beneath the oxygen mask.

"Yes. He threatened her and he… hurt her. He said he'd punish her any time someone stepped out of line."

Regina leaned forward. "How badly did he hurt her?"

"You want some kind of measurement?" Sidney asked. "Badly. She was only released from the hospital this morning. She took a bullet to the shoulder and has a broken nose and multiple broken ribs and from what I heard—"

"Yes, okay," Regina cut him off, trying not to shudder. "She got hurt for trying to play the hero."

Sidney looked at her so venomously that she almost leaned back to get away from him.

"She wasn't _playing_ anything," he said. "She protected us all. She could have _died_. Surely you must know all that since you've already given her paid leave from the sheriff station until she's recovered?"

"Of course I know," Regina snapped. "Don't forget that it was also me who asked you to stand in as her replacement until she returns. Don't make me regret that before you've even done your first shift."

Sidney fell silent, but he was still glaring at her. Regina forced herself to take a calming breath before she said, "The phone call. What happened with that?"

Sidney visibly shuddered. "He told her to call you and get you to the meeting. He'd been expecting you to be there, and when you didn't show up he had to find another way to make it happen. But she wouldn't do it."

"At first," Regina said.

"No," Sidney replied flatly. "Not at first."

"Why did she refuse?"

"She said she wasn't going to drag you into it. She said she'd rather die."

Biting at the inside of her mouth, Regina asked, "How did he persuade her?"

"Are you serious?" Sidney demanded. It was maybe the first time he'd ever snapped at her, and she couldn't say she appreciated it. "He dialled your number, then he held the phone against her ear. He had the gun on me. There was nothing she could do."

Regina's face twitched. "So she protected you."

"She protected everyone. Yourself included."

"I wasn't even _there_."

"But you should have been," Sidney replied, unflinching. "And I think you know that. If you hadn't pushed the meeting onto Emma then God only knows what would have happened."

Regina stared levelly back at him, trying to act like that exact thought hadn't been bothering her for the past three days.

"Well. I suppose I would be dead."

"She defended you when you weren't even in the room, Regina. I doubt she would have sat back and let him kill you if you were."

Regina felt her nostrils flare. Sure, Miss Swan might have done a noble thing, but that didn't make her some kind of _saint_. She was still an idiot, and Regina had no doubt that given the opportunity, Emma would have sat back and let Moe kill her without feeling any remorse about it.

The lie tasted bitter on her tongue.

Sidney was watching her curiously, taking in the bite marks on her lower lip and the fact that she looked slightly tired around her eyes.

"Regina," he said slowly. "Like it or not, Emma put her life on the line for everyone that day. Including you. And yet you still haven't even gone to see her."

"I've been busy."

"You've been feeling guilty."

"I hardly think that—"

She was interrupted by the scrape of Sidney's chair as he stood up.

"Madam Mayor," he said, gathering up his coat and bag. "You asked how I'm doing, and I'm fine. Really. But there's one person who isn't, and no matter how much you dislike her, I think you owe it to her to go and ask her that question instead."

After he'd finished speaking, he turned and swept out of the room in the most uncharacteristic manner possible. Regina sat, stunned, watching him go. She kept running her tongue along the inside of her cheek, probing at the wound she'd bitten there so she could feel a shot of pain through her body.

Her chest was heavy with guilt, and she hated it. She felt unsure of herself, and she hated that even more.

* * *

Henry was picking at his dinner. His tensed jaw was resting on one hand as he pushed mashed potato back and forth across the plate.

Regina watched him, her own food sitting hardly touched before her.

"How was school today?" she asked eventually, her voice clattering through the room.

Henry shrugged, not looking up.

After a few more moments of silence, Regina put her fork down. "Did something happen in class?"

"No. School was fine," Henry said flatly, arranging his peas in a straight line across the centre of his plate.

"Then what it is?"

"Nothing."

"Henry," Regina insisted. "Don't lie to me."

He remained silent, his brow crumpled and his face dark. Regina pressed her lips together before forcing herself to ask the question that she'd been avoiding for three days.

"Did you go and see Emma?"

"Why do you care?"

Ignoring the snap in his voice, Regina asked, "How was she?"

"You don't what to know how she was."

"Yes, I do."

"You _don't_ ," Henry said, rolling his eyes. "You haven't even been to see her yet. You're just asking because you think you should."

The words were sharp and uncomfortably accurate, but she pushed them aside.

"Henry – please. Just tell me what happened."

Her son finally dropped his fork and slouched in his chair. There was an anxious crease in his forehead that, as much as Regina hated to admit it, reminded her all too strongly of the other woman who insisted on calling herself his mother.

"It was bad," he said. When Regina didn't interrupt him, he slowly continued. "She's really quiet and she only let me stay for 10 minutes before she told me I should go. And when I asked if I could come back tomorrow, she said… she said that she needed time."

"She's been through a lot, Henry. She only got out of the hospital this morning. She's going to need—"

"You're defending her?" Henry interrupted. "Now she doesn't want to see me anymore, you're suddenly on her side?"

"No – I'm on her side because she's in a lot of pain, and she probably doesn't want you to see her like that."

Henry just glared at her, slumping down further with his hair falling into his eyes.

"Just be patient," Regina said gently. "She'll recover, and then things will go back to normal."

"Things are never normal. And you haven't _seen_ her – you have no idea how long it's going to take her to get better."

"I haven't seen her because—"

"Because you hate her," Henry said flatly. "Because you don't care whether she's hurt or not."

"Henry, that's not true."

"Yeah, it is. She got hurt and now she's out the way and that means you can be my mom without her butting in anymore. I know you."

It was painful how true those words could have been in any other circumstances. Combined with the guilt that was swirling around Regina's stomach like a draining plughole, they made her feel nauseous.

"You know she wouldn't want to see me."

Her son looked up from the line of peas on his plate and sighed.

"She didn't want to see me either. But I still tried."

* * *

When Regina knocked on the heavy wooden door, flakes of old paint came off on her knuckles. She wrinkled her nose and tried to brush them away with her other hand, but they stayed put. She reached for the bottom of her coat so she could scrub herself clean on the lining.

Then she heard footsteps padding toward the door and straightened up, thrusting her fists deep into her pockets so that the trembling wasn't so obvious.

Mary Margaret jumped as soon as she opened the door and found her standing there. "Mayor Mills?"

Regina sighed. Her whole body felt strange – like her arms were too long for her sleeves, and her tongue was too big for her mouth. She felt gangly and awkward and she didn't care for it.

"Miss Blanchard," she said. "I'm here to see Miss Swan."

It was vaguely satisfying to see Mary Margaret's round face crumple with panic. "Oh. Well. She's… she's not here."

Regina looked dully back at her. "She's out running errands, is she? One day after being released from the hospital?"

One of Mary Margaret's hands crept up and began to fiddle with the silver necklace hanging around her throat.

"Yes."

Regina heard a creak of furniture from somewhere behind the door and pursed her lips impatiently.

"Miss Blanchard – I appreciate that your roommate probably isn't in the best condition for receiving houseguests right now, but I still need to speak with her. She is my sheriff, after all. There are some things we need to discuss."

That was better – her voice was cool and calm and she sounded just as professionally disinterested as usual.

Mary Margaret was nodding like she understood, but then she replied in that infuriatingly soft voice that never failed to make Regina's palms itch.

"I'm really sorry, Regina, but I'm not sure it's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Because…" Mary Margaret said, her gaze flicking behind the door for just a second. "Because it's not a good time."

"I'll be brief."

"But I don't think—"

A new voice suddenly cut her off. "It's okay, Mary Margaret."

Mary Margaret immediately turned to her left and stuck her head behind the door.

"Are you sure?" she asked, speaking quietly like she didn't think the mayor would be able to hear her. Regina rolled her eyes impatiently.

"Yeah," Emma's voice came back. It sounded different, although Regina couldn't say why – maybe it was just because they spent so much time arguing that she wasn't used to hearing her sound subdued. "You were just leaving anyway, right?"

“...I was?"

"Yes," Emma replied. Regina rocked up onto the balls of her feet, trying to peer round the door and catch a glimpse of her. "You were going to the store. Remember?"

It took Mary Margaret far too long to catch on. Regina found herself wondering whether it was too late to transfer her son to a different class.

"Right," she said eventually, glancing back at Regina with sheer distrust in her eyes. "I guess I'll just… go, then. If you're sure."

"I'll be fine."

Mary Margaret nodded, dragging her eyes warningly back to the woman who was still waiting on the threshold. Regina shot her a smug smile as she grabbed her coat and bag and headed out the door.

"I'll be back in a half hour," Mary Margaret said as she passed, throwing Regina one last reproachful look before she took to the stairs. Regina watched her go, unable to stop herself from smirking at her retreating back. Even then, it was nice to secure some kind of victory over her.

Then she turned back to the door, and she froze.

Emma was waiting for her, her arms crossed over her chest and her shoulders slightly slumped. Her gaze was carefully averted and aimed at the floor, like she was giving Regina the chance to take everything in without worrying about being caught staring.

Because Regina _was_ staring. She couldn't help it. The face in front of her belonged to Emma, but it looked like a reflection in a smashed mirror: the flesh on the left side was raised and purple, bulging out from her temple and cheekbone like someone had stuffed marbles beneath the surface. The purple bled into a dirty green colour beneath both of her eyes. Her nose was visibly broken, and there was a deep cut running down her temple. Black stitches were holding it together, and the whole picture was so jagged and violent that it made Regina's stomach turn.

Then she glanced down and saw the thick white gauze that was taped over Emma's shoulder. There was a dark patch beneath it that Regina was certain would give her nightmares.

Emma waited until she was sure that Regina had taken in every detail before she finally spoke.

"Do you want to come in?"

Regina jumped. The words snapped her out of her confused haze, and she forced herself to reply, "I… Yes. Thank you."

Emma stepped to one side, still not looking up, and let Regina sidle past her. The door was shut with a tentative click.

"Have a seat," Emma said, gesturing toward the island in the middle of the kitchen. "I'll make us some coffee."

Regina stayed exactly where she was, her nails digging into her palms deep within her pockets. When Emma walked past her, her movements were stilted – she was holding her body carefully to one side, and when Regina looked down she spotted another dark spot beneath her shirt. It was spread all across her ribs on the right-hand side.

Emma began shuffling about the kitchen, struggling to reach mugs on their shelves and not bothering to switch on the proper coffee machine because that would have taken too long. She could feel Regina behind her, still standing in the centre of the room surveying her like she was the main act at a circus, and all she wanted was to get her out again.

To be honest, she was shocked she'd shown up in the first place.

"You can sit, Regina," she repeated, not turning around. She was scooping cheap coffee granules into two mugs as she waited for the kettle on the stovetop to boil. Even the movement of lifting and dropping the spoon hurt. She leaned her entire body against the counter to try and take some pressure off it.

Regina swallowed, looking down at the nearest rickety stool with a wrinkle of disgust running down the side of her nose.

"Right," she said, edging closer. The silence stretched on.

Emma finally finished making the coffee and turned toward her, awkwardly carrying two mugs over. Her steps were slow, and when she placed the cups onto the island, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Regina was perched on the very edge of her stool and waited for Emma to hop up onto the one next to her. Instead, she stayed where she was on the other side of the counter. She slid one mug in Regina's direction, her hands trembling with the effort, and then rested her elbows on the edge of the worktop.

"Aren't you going to sit?" Regina asked.

"No," Emma replied. "Broken ribs. If I sit down, I won't be getting back up again for a while."

Unsure whether that was meant to be a joke or not, Regina just nodded. She tore her gaze away from the angry black lines zigzagging down Emma's temple and let it drop to the suspiciously murky cup of coffee she'd made her instead.

They both went silent. There was only a foot or two of space between them and it was filled with heavy discomfort, like a thick cloud of incense.

Regina bit at the inside of her mouth, trying to think of something to say. The whole ride over, she'd told herself this would be easy: she'd ask how Emma was doing, Emma would shrug in her usual ungainly way and say she was fine, and then they'd briefly discuss her paid absence from the sheriff station. Emma might even thank her for being so understanding, and Regina would leave feeling both relieved and slightly victorious.

She hadn't factored in that Emma would look so small. She had a split lip, and her nose had a dent in it that hadn't been there before.

Emma could feel the uncertainty radiating from her and she tried to enjoy it. Eventually, though, she took pity on her.

"Why are you here?"

Regina's dark eyes snapped up to look at her. She didn't look accusatory for once – she looked conflicted.

"I came to check on how you are," she said, forcing a smile. "You look… well."

Emma would have snorted if she didn't have a broken nose.

"Wow. You must be after something."

"I'm sorry?"

"I look _well_?" Emma asked. "Are you kidding?"

"I… I mean, obviously you don't. But you're standing, aren't you? And that's better than I was expecting."

Emma rolled her eyes and took a sip of her coffee. "I guess. So, what is it that you want?"

"I don't _want_ anything. I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

"I'm doing alright."

Regina frowned. She'd been anticipating some kind of distance from Emma, but this sheer disdain was unexpected. She wasn't even making eye contact.

"I…" Regina started, waiting for Emma to look up and show that she was listening, but it never happened. "What he did, Miss Swan – that man. I feel like I should—"

"I don't want to talk about him," Emma interrupted.

"Sorry?"

"Moe. French," Emma said, her eyes still on her coffee. "Whatever his name is. I don't want to talk about him."

"I understand that. But I just wanted to—"

"I mean it," Emma cut her off again, clutching her mug with both hands. "What happened… it's done. I'm over it."

"…are you?"

"Sure," Emma said, her voice tight. "I got hurt but I'll get better, and he's going to jail and that's all there is to it."

There was a high-pitched shrieking inside Regina's head, and she was filled with the strange need to reach out and grab Emma's hand. She resisted, clutching hold of her lumpy coffee instead.

"No," she said slowly. "It's not."

"It is to me."

Regina watched Emma putting her mug back down on the table. There were ripples in the coffee. The skin on her face that wasn't purple or green was almost grey and clammy with sweat, and whenever Emma tried to look up to meet Regina's gaze, her eyes immediately flickered away again.

Regina leaned forward, and Emma immediately flinched.

"Emma," she said slowly. "You're not okay. I can assure you of that."

"I'm fine. I've got a few weeks off work, anyway. I'll be alright."

"I know – actually, that's something else I wanted to talk to you about. I've got Sidney standing in as your replacement while you're taking a break."

For the first time that afternoon, Emma lifted her gaze and made proper eye contact with her. "Well – that's worked out pretty nicely for you then, hasn't it?"

Regina scoffed. "You think I want this? Please, Miss Swan, give me some credit. I'm not totally heartless."

"If you say so," Emma replied, pushing herself off the counter and turning away. She took her mostly full mug with her and dumped it in the sink.

A long pause stretched out as Regina let those words settle over her. Emma was still at the sink, her shoulders hunched as she rinsed out the cup, and the sudden realisation of what was going on slicked over Regina's skin like wet cloth.

"Miss Swan – are you angry with me?"

"Why? Shouldn't I be?" Emma replied, turning back around. She folded her arms over her chest and watched Regina with eyes that only weren't narrowed because of the bruises.

Regina frowned. "I don't understand. I'm here to try and explain things, but you won't let me. How can you be angry at me if—"

"Because I every right to be, Regina!" Emma suddenly exploded, making Regina jump in her seat. "Look at me! _Look_. Do you have any idea what he did to me? Do you even _care_?"

Regina stammered, "Of course I care. That's why I'm here."

"No, you're here to try and assuage your guilt because Henry came home telling you that I'm not all sunshine and rainbows again yet."

Instead of saying that Emma had never resembled sunshine or rainbows in her entire life, Regina said, "That's not true."

"So he didn't tell you that?"

"He… He's worried about you. We all are."

"Give me a break," Emma scoffed. "Maybe _he_ is, but I don't buy it for a second that you're here because you actually give a damn."

"But I—"

"Look – I get it, okay?" Emma cut her off. "This all happened because that guy was crazy. The cops told me all about him – he's got rage issues and he's still recovering from the death of his daughter and all this other bullshit. He's a sociopath and he's getting locked up now. I get all that. But the simple fact is that if you were capable of showing even the _slightest_ degree of civility to anyone in this godforsaken town, then this wouldn't have happened. If you hadn't deliberately wound him up until he snapped, then he wouldn't have tried to kill you and gotten to me instead."

"He… I didn't…" Regina said, hating herself for the way she was stuttering. "It wasn't my fault. I—"

"No, it wasn't your fault. But you still could have stopped it from happening. If you hadn't been so goddamn proud that you refused to pay him his wages, none of this would have happened."

Regina couldn't think of a response to that, because Emma was looking at her so tiredly that it physically hurt. After a beat, Emma sighed and rubbed a hand over her pounding forehead.

"He wanted to drag you in there, Regina," she said quietly. "He was probably going to kill you. And I know you and I have our problems, but I did everything I could to stop that happening. And I don't _regret_ it," she added when it looked like Regina was about to protest. "I'm glad I did it. But the fact is that you ignored me for four days before finally coming waltzing in here to try and explain your guilt away, and you being here now isn't going to get rid of these bruises or fix the headache that Dr Whale said might not ever completely go away."

She was clinging onto the edge of the counter to try and hide her trembling hands, but Regina saw them anyway.

"You could have told Moe that I wasn't going to be there," Regina said after a pause. "At the meeting."

"Yeah, I could have – and then what? He would have left and gone to find you and probably shot you dead in your own home. Would that have been better for you? The fact that I stood between you is, what – my fault?"

"No," Regina shook her head. "Of course it's not. You… stood up to him. You did something that few people in this town would have been brave enough to, especially considering… considering who you were defending. And I'm grateful, Miss Swan. Really."

"'Miss Swan'," Emma repeated miserably. "You can't even use my name."

"Emma," Regina responded.

That single word was met with a solemn groan. "I need you to leave now."

Regina jumped, hating the way that Emma's head had fallen forward so that her expression was hidden. 

"No," she said automatically. "I haven't had the chance to explain anything yet."

"There's nothing to explain," Emma said. "It's done. I did my job; I got hurt for it. That's all there is to it."

"No, it's not," Regina said, standing up so abruptly that her stool shrieked against the floor. "Let me try and explain. I want to—"

"Regina, please," Emma groaned, lifting her head for just long enough that Regina was able to catch the glassiness in her swollen eyes. "I'm not sure if you can tell, but I'm not exactly feeling my best right now. Listening to you isn't helping anything, so please, just… go. You can explain yourself to anyone who'll listen if that will make you feel better, but for now, just leave me alone."

Regina stepped out from behind the island, because words were beyond her but she still wasn't willing to do as she was told. Not because her automatic response to anything Emma said was to push back and make things worse – that instinct had left her the second she'd walked through the door and seen the shadow Moe had left behind in Emma Swan's place. Instead, she was overcome with a desperate need to scrape the pieces of her once-barbed sheriff back together so she would actually be able to fight with her again. She wanted to make Emma realise that, as much as it pained her, she actually _was_ sorry, and she wanted to help. She wasn't pushing into her space because she was trying to make things worse – for once in her life, she was trying to make things better.

Maybe Emma noticed her approaching, but she didn't show it. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her gaze was still on the floor, and she was so tightly wound that it looked like a single touch might make her shatter. And yet Regina did it anyway – she reached her side and in one last, hopeless attempt to get her to listen, she reached out and touched her arm. When the tips of her fingers made contact with Emma's tricep, she had a split second to notice just how cold it was.

But then Emma was pulling back from her, staggering to one side like the gentle touch had been harsh enough to burn her, and her eyes were open and wide and glistening with something that looked like terror. As she fell back, her elbow collided with the coffee jar and sent it toppling to the ground. The granules spread outward like a firework, falling through the cracks in the floorboards and crunching under Emma's feet as she wobbled back another step.

She didn't even seem to notice. She was breathing hard and her eyes were on Regina's face, and the skin that had previously been grey was now sheet-white.

Regina looked down at her own outstretched hand and snatched it back before it could do any more damage. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"Go," Emma choked out, reaching for the counter and gripping hold of it before her treacherous legs could send her crashing to the floor. "Please."

And finally, Regina did. She all but ran from the room, slamming the door behind her and hurtling down the stairs without stopping. Emma's terrified expression was burned in her mind and, as she opened the door of her Mercedes and climbed inside, she couldn't push it away. Even when she gripped hold of the wheel with both hands and rested her forehead against it, it wouldn't fade. The startled gasp that Emma had let out wasn't far behind it, no matter how many times Regina shook her head or gritted her teeth or reminded herself that she didn't even care about Emma's feelings anyway.


	4. Chapter 4

"Well. You look like crap."

Emma lifted her gaze from her hot chocolate to find August standing by the side of her booth. His arms were folded, and he was watching her with his usual cocky smile.

She raised her eyebrows as far as her bruises would allow.

"Thank you so much," she said as he slid into the seat opposite. The diner was nearly empty – aside from the elderly couple who were always at the table in the corner regardless of what time Emma arrived, August and Granny herself were the only other people in the room.

"It's 6:30am," August said, gesturing to the watery sunlight that was struggling to make its way through the half-open shutters. "Why are you up?"

"I could ask you the same question."

"Early riser," August said dryly.

"And what makes you think I'm not one?"

"Generally people who wake up early tend to look like they've actually been to sleep in the first place."

Emma flinched, looking back down at her mug. As soon as her gaze was averted, she could feel August's blue eyes scanning her face, taking in the bruises, the broken bones, all 10 of the thick black stitches running down her temple.

When she didn't reply, he gently asked, "Have you slept at all?"

"Not recently," Emma replied, taking a sip of her cocoa. It was too rich, and it hurt to swallow.

"Right," August replied. "What about food? When was the last time you ate something?"

"What are you, my mother?" she asked. Granny approached their table with a takeout cup and handed it to August without a word.

"Not that I'm aware of. I'm just concerned."

"I'm fine," Emma said. She'd lost count of how many times she'd said those two words over the past seven days – to her doctor, to her roommate, and now to this almost-stranger who had only told her his name two weeks earlier and yet was watching her like he'd known her all his life.

Right then he was observing her thoughtfully, taking in the marshy greyness beneath her eyes.

"You don't have to do that, you know," he said. "No one's expecting you to be okay."

"And no one's expecting you to be worried about me."

"Have you been avoiding mirrors as well as all forms of sustenance?" August replied coolly. "You look terrible. Of course I'm going to be worried about you."

Emma shoved her mug away from her. "With all due respect, August, I don't _know_ you. You're just the new guy in town who keeps hanging around my son even though I asked him not to, which means you're still suspicious as hell. So, thanks for the concern, but I can do without it."

"And yet," August said, his lips quirking upward, "you're not telling me to leave."

"I kind of thought that was implied."

August laughed. "Ah, well – what can I say? I've never been very good at doing what I'm told."

Emma just watched as he slid out of the booth and got to his feet. He was standing awkwardly, like one leg had a cramp in it, but he kept smiling at her.

"I get the impression I'll be seeing you here again," he said, rapping his knuckles on the table. "Next time, I'm buying."

"I thought you already took me out for a drink?"

"I did. But sometimes I do like to treat a girl to more than just free water from an old well."

Emma laughed in spite of herself. He grinned back at her before turning for the door that led into the B&B.

"I'll see you tomorrow, maybe," he called out as he disappeared. Emma watched him go, her cold cocoa sitting a few inches away from her and her head pounding from the longest conversation she'd had all week.

Outside the diner, another pair of eyes was watching August leave. Regina was sitting in her black Mercedes, her hands gripping the wheel. The traffic light ahead of her had turned green, but as it was too early for anyone to be waiting behind her, she hadn't noticed that she was supposed to go.

She'd decided to go into work a few hours early to try and get some of her paperwork under control before she went over to the sheriff station to help Sidney with his. He'd only been sitting at Emma's desk for a couple of days, but already it was painfully obvious that the transition was not going to be a smooth one: Regina was going to have to spend half her days leaning over his shoulder if she wanted the town to run even slightly smoothly while Emma was absent.

But on her way into work, she'd been distracted by a flash of blonde hair. Emma was sitting in her favourite booth in Granny's – the one just beside the window – and as Regina had waited at the red light, she'd found herself staring at the watercolour wash of greys and greens that was spread across her face. Emma's eyes were tired, and she was slumped over the table with the non-injured side of her face resting on one hand. That biker – the one who still thought it was perfectly acceptable to want to befriend a 10-year-old boy – had just walked off, leaving her completely alone.

Regina couldn't help but glare at his retreating back. Emma didn't look up from the table, and she didn't notice the storm that was gathering on the mayor's face.

 _So that's two people_ , Regina thought as she finally shifted the car into gear. _Two people who he shouldn't be taking an interest in._

* * *

"Emma."

Mary Margaret's voice drifted through the haze that was filling her skull. Emma blinked, her head jerking up. "Huh?"

"You haven't eaten anything."

Emma looked back down at her plate. Most of the food on it had been cut up and moved around a dozen times, but it was still undeniably full.

"Right," she said, reluctantly lifting her fork. "Sorry. It's good. I'm just…"

"I know," Mary Margaret said quickly, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. "I get it, Emma, I promise you. But you need to try – you're never going to get better if you end up starving yourself to death."

Emma sighed, trying not to take it too personally. She could see the concern in her roommate's eyes, and she knew how tough it must be trying to live with her right then – apart from her morning sojourns to Granny's diner, she spent all day tucked away in her bedroom, wearing three sweaters and often pressing a heat pack to her shoulder because Dr Whale had told her to ice the bullet wound but she couldn't stand the cold anymore. She didn't make proper conversation at dinner, and even when Mary Margaret spent hours cooking for her, she couldn't eat it.

She lifted her fork to her mouth and forced in a piece of chicken. Mary Margaret had been trying to make her bland food that she would be able to stomach, but even this tasted like lead.

Forcing herself not to grimace, Emma cut off another piece and braced herself.

"It's okay," Mary Margaret suddenly said, her eyes on the flash of pain on Emma's face as she struggled to chew. "Don't force yourself. We'll find something else."

Then she was on her feet, taking Emma's plate with her.

"Does anything feel appealing right now?" she asked. "Do you want some ice cream?"

"I'm not six. And I haven't just had my tonsils out."

"I know, but it seems like a good place to start. What do you feel like having?"

"A drink," Emma muttered, pushing her lank hair out of her face.

"I'm not giving you alcohol – you haven't eaten since Wednesday. One sip and I'll have to take you to the emergency room."

"Good – they might give me a sedative while I'm there."

"You won't need one if you've fallen into an alcohol-induced coma," Mary Margaret said sharply, dropping the dishes into the sink with a clatter that made Emma jump.

"I know. I just—"

"I can make you some mac and cheese?"

"I'm fine, really."

"We also have chocolate pudding. And leftover meatloaf."

"Mary Margaret, please," Emma said quietly. Her hand was clasped over her ribs as she watched her roommate rummage through the fridge.

There was a pause before Mary Margaret sighed. "I don't know what to do."

Guilt stabbed at Emma. It was even sharper than the pain she felt when she made herself stand up. "You don't have to _do_ anything."

"I have to look after you," Mary Margaret replied. She was still facing the open fridge, but Emma knew what expression she was wearing.

"No, you don't," Emma said. "You're not responsible for me. I can get through this on my own."

Her roommate slammed the fridge shut and turned to look at her with pleading eyes.

"I don't think you can, though. Emma, it's so hard to watch you struggling. Can't you just let me help?"

"I don't need—"

"You haven't slept in days," Mary Margaret interrupted, unconsciously twisting her green ring round and round on her finger. "You haven't smiled in even longer. You're still trying to convince me that everything's okay but I'm not an idiot, and even though I realise you might need some space, I wish you'd let me in just a _little_ bit."

Emma stood silently for a moment, her hand still pressed over her broken ribs. She hated the fact that the second Mary Margaret had raised her voice, she'd felt her throat go tight.

She swallowed before admitting, "I've never had anyone look after me before."

Mary Margaret's face went soft. Her hazel eyes were darting from Emma's mouth to her nose to her stitches.

"I'm really grateful that you're trying to help," Emma continued. "I mean it. It's just… going to take some getting used to."

Her roommate immediately stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her. She was careful not to squeeze too tight, which comforted and hurt Emma in equal measure.

"Well, get used to it," Mary Margaret said. "Because I'm not going anywhere any time soon."

* * *

Emma sat cross-legged in the middle of her bed, listening for any sounds from downstairs. The apartment had been silent for nearly 20 minutes when she finally accepted that Mary Margaret must be asleep. She took a breath and got to her feet, before tiptoeing over to the door. Her thick socks didn't make a noise as she crept down the stairs.

The apartment was dark. She could hear her roommate's soft snoring from behind the thin white curtain that separated her room from the rest of the apartment. Emma slipped toward it, peering behind the material to check she was fast asleep before scanning every corner of her bedroom to make sure no one else was lurking there. When she was sure it was clear, she turned back to the kitchen and exhaled.

Tugging the sleeves of her sweater down over her hands, Emma walked over to the front door. She could hear through it that the corridor outside was silent, but she still paused for a long time as she psyched herself up to reach out for the handle.

"Come on, Emma," she muttered to herself, shaking herself off. "You can do it."

She took the deepest breath that her broken ribs would allow and yanked open the door.

The space outside was empty, just like it had been every night that week. Emma stuck her head around the door and peered down the stairs, checking that the stairwell was clear too. Once she was certain that no one was crouched in the shadows waiting for her, she pulled the door shut again and quickly turned the lock.

The rest of the apartment was still waiting for her. Beneath the kitchen table was always her first stop, then the space behind the couch. She held her breath as she crept around, listening out for a creak of a floorboard or a scrape of furniture from somewhere behind her. Once she was done with the kitchen and living room, she slipped into the bathroom, checking behind the shower curtain and even in the tiny cupboard beneath the sink. He could sneak in anywhere, in the same way he managed to sneak into her head when she was dreaming, and she wasn't willing to leave any stone unturned until she could be certain that the entire apartment was clear.

Once she'd checked everywhere, she stood in the centre of the living room with her hands tugging at her sleeves and surveyed it one last time. It was silent, and she forced herself to acknowledge that she was safe.

And yet she still checked under her bed and inside her closet when she returned to her bedroom. She pulled back the curtains and looked there too. She tugged on the window locks, gently at first and then more fiercely until the old paint started to flake off beneath her fingers. When they stayed shut, she collapsed onto the bed with a sigh.

Up until that week, her characterless bedroom in Mary Margaret's loft had seemed far too small for her. She didn't own that much stuff, but she'd still struggled to find a place for everything. Now, though, it was cavernous. There were too many corners and spaces in which to hide.

Part of her longed for the shoebox of a room that had been her home for the 11 months she'd spent in prison.

Reaching for her nightstand, she picked up her gun and checked that it was loaded before putting it back down where it was within arm's reach. She took a deep breath, feeling her bruised ribs creaking around her lungs, before finally forcing herself to turn the lamp off. The shadows on the walls immediately grew.

Emma slipped beneath the covers and tugged them up to her chin, shielding the rest of her body from the room and its eyes and its claws. The silence of the apartment wasn't reassuring – it laughed at her. She could feel its mockery as she struggled to close her eyes.

The digital clock on her nightstand read 12:03am. At around 3am, she fell asleep for long enough that she felt a hand reach out and grab her throat, jolting her awake again.

For the next three hours, Emma lay perfectly still with her eyes on the ceiling. She couldn't catch her breath. She waited for the minutes to walk away from her, and only felt the sharp pain in her chest start to loosen when the weak sunlight finally began to creep through the curtains.

When Mary Margaret got up for school at 6:30am, the front door was unlocked and the bed upstairs was empty. Across town, her roommate sat at her regular table in Granny's, her eyes sleepless and swollen, with a hot chocolate she couldn't drink clasped between her hands.


	5. Chapter 5

Regina locked up her office and made her way back to her car, her left arm clamped around the stack of paperwork that needed looking over that evening. The majority of it had been confiscated from Sidney earlier that afternoon: as expected, his first week as Storybrooke's stand-in sheriff had not gone smoothly. Even answering the phone seemed to be a challenge to the man who had spent most of his life hiding behind a computer.

Regina had taken one step into the sheriff station on Monday morning, seen the terrified expression on Sidney's face as he sized up the enormous stack of witness statements and incident reports that Moe French's rampage had produced, and had resigned herself to the fact that she would be spending most of the week there. Her patience was already at rock bottom, but after four days of listening to Sidney stammering question after question, she was ready to snap. Most of the papers went back to her office with her because she knew she'd end up beating him to death with them if she watched him use blue ink instead of the black they clearly specified one more time.

City Hall was quiet, which was something that made her increasingly nervous nowadays. Even though Moe was safely locked away on the other side of town, part of her expected him to show up whenever she was alone. She forced back a shudder and hurried across the parking lot, climbing into her car and locking the doors behind her.

As she drove down Main Street, she noticed another car on the road with her. It was brown and ugly, and she quickly recognised it as Mary Margaret's grotesque little wagon. She rolled her eyes and tried not to get too close just in case the inept woman slammed her brakes on when a bird crossed her path, but after a few moments, Regina found herself wondering where exactly she was going. If she was on her way out, that meant she'd left Emma at home alone.

At the end of the road, Mary Margaret's car followed the fork to the right – the one that led to the toll bridge. Regina sighed – that harlot really had no shame whatsoever.

When she arrived home, the light in Henry's room was on. Regina hopped out of her car and dragged the stack of paperwork with her into the house, kicking her heels off by the front door.

"Henry?" she called upstairs. "I'm home. Do you want to come down and help with dinner?"

She didn't receive a response. With a sigh, Regina placed the paperwork and her purse on the nearby console and headed for the stairs.

"Henry?" she repeated when she reached his bedroom door. When he still didn't reply, she pushed it open and stuck her head inside.

She found her son sitting cross-legged on his bed, staring down at his storybook. It was closed.

"Did you hear me?" she said, taking a step into the room. Henry shrugged, tracing his finger over the text on the cover. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"It doesn't look like nothing," Regina said, walking over to the bed and perching herself at the end. "How was school?"

"Fine."

"And after school?"

"Okay."

"Henry," Regina sighed, reaching out to squeeze his hand. He didn't pull away, but he didn't squeeze back either. "Where did you go?"

"Nowhere."

"But you're upset," Regina said. She paused. "You can tell me if you went to see Emma again. I won't be mad."

He looked up at her with slightly teary eyes, and before she knew it he had catapulted himself into her arms. She blinked before automatically gathering him up against her, holding him tight against her chest as he cried.

"Oh, sweetheart," she murmured, planting a kiss on the top of his head. "What happened?"

He shook his head and said in a muffled voice, "I don't want to tell you."

"Why not?"

"You'll get angry."

"What?" she asked sharply, pushing him away by his shoulders so she could look him in the eye. "Why would I be angry?"

"You were angry when you came back from seeing her last time," he mumbled, scrubbing a hand beneath his eye.

Regina sighed, pushing his hair back from his hot face. "That was different. I was… upset. I wasn't angry."

"Upset? Why?"

"It doesn't matter," she said, trying to smile. "What matters is why you're upset right now."

Henry bit his lip. As he considered it, his forehead creased in exactly the same way that Emma's did when she was thinking about something.

When he realised that there was no hidden agenda in Regina's voice, he said, "She was worse."

"Worse?" Regina asked, thinking back to how Emma had looked the last time she'd seen her. Her hair was lank and her eyes were exhausted, and it looked like she hadn't eaten anything in a while. "How could she be worse?"

"I don't know, but she was," Henry said, going back to tracing the words _Once Upon a Time_ on his book cover. "She and Miss Blanchard had been arguing when I got there, I think. Mary Margaret looked like she'd been crying and Emma was angry and slamming all the doors. She looked bad, as well. I don't think she's sleeping."

"I don't think so either," Regina said, recalling all the times she'd seen her sitting in Granny's just as the sun was barely rising. "How long did you stay for?"

"Not very long – they didn't want me there," he said miserably. "Emma said they needed to talk and then hopefully she'd be able to see me tomorrow."

Regina opened her mouth to respond, before a thought suddenly struck her: she'd seen Mary Margaret sneaking off to meet David. It seemed that not much talking was getting done after all.

It also meant Miss Swan was alone. They'd had a huge fight, and then Mary Margaret had just left her.

Unsure as to whether she should be concerned or deeply furious, Regina reached out and cupped her son's wet cheek. She tried to offer him a reassuring smile.

"I'm sure she'll do her best to see you soon," she said. She rubbed her thumb over his skin, hoping the familiar gesture would soothe him slightly. "She's trying, Henry. She just needs some time. Do you think you can be patient for her?"

"Of course I can," Henry said, nodding vigorously. "I just wanted her to know that I'm still here."

"She knows," Regina said. "Trust me – she knows."

They sat in silence for a few moments, Henry's face still resting against his mother's cupped palm. A sharp pain beat through Regina's chest as she looked down at him – for the first time in weeks, maybe even months, there was no hatred in his eyes. He'd let her in because he'd needed her to comfort him and, in spite of how upset he was, she felt relieved that he'd wanted that tiny thing from her.

But then a lump rose in her throat and, in spite of herself, she had to pull away.

"Henry," she said slowly. "After dinner… will you be okay on your own for a little while?"

Her son looked curiously at her. "Why?"

"I need to go out."

"Oh, okay. Where?"

God, she hated herself for it. She could taste bile in her throat as she forced the words out.

"I think I should go and check that Miss Swan's okay."

* * *

She could hear the music from the bottom of the stairwell. The heavy drumbeat poured down the steps, making the railing vibrate as she climbed. Regina sighed to herself: obviously leaving Emma alone was akin to leaving a teenager unsupervised for the evening. The apartment would be in ruins by the time Mary Margaret came home.

Regina's worry was growing, though, as much as she tried to ignore it. For the entire drive over, she'd been telling herself that she was only stopping by to make sure Emma wasn't going to push her son out again. She'd told herself she wasn't actually concerned, much less guilty – she was just doing the right thing because someone had to.

But she'd seen Emma that morning, and even from her car, Regina had been able to tell that she wasn't well. Regardless of what she and her roommate had been arguing about that afternoon, she shouldn't have been left alone – not in her condition, and certainly not for David Nolan.

Regina approached the front door and, steeling herself, knocked. The music was louder there, throbbing through the peeling wood, and after a few moments Regina realised that she wasn't capable of knocking loud enough to make herself heard.

With a sigh, she reached into her pocket and fished out the skeleton key she'd suspected she might need before she left home. It slipped into the lock and when she pushed the door open, she winced as the music got even louder.

She expected to spot Emma right away, maybe slumped on the sofa or doing some questionable appliance repairs at the kitchen island. Instead, she found the room empty. With a frown, Regina stepped further inside and let the door swing shut behind her.

There was an enormous stereo on the kitchen counter. Regina had to assume it didn't belong to Mary Margaret. Beyond that, everything looked fairly normal – that was, until Regina looked down at the floor and noticed the leg sticking out from behind the island. Beside it was a half-empty bottle of whisky.

With her stomach plummeting, Regina rushed forward. It felt like her heart had stopped.

 _Oh God, she's dead_ , she thought to herself. _She's killed herself and I'll be the one to find her and everyone will blame me for it. What the hell will I tell Henry? How can I explain to him—?_

And then she stopped, her heart just about starting up again. Emma was sitting on the floor with her back up against the counter. There was a glass in her left hand and a bunch of photographs clasped in her right. Dozens more of them were spread on the floor around her – all of them old and tatty and just starting to yellow – and beside her was a box with a white knitted blanket folded on top.

Regina nearly screamed when she saw her. Slamming her hand down on top of the stereo, she shut the music off and watched with satisfaction as Emma visibly jumped.

"I thought you'd _died_ ," Regina spat. Her hands were shaking. "What in God's name are you doing?"

Emma looked blearily up at her like she'd forgotten her. Her eyes were slightly bloodshot, and the bruises on her face still didn't seem to be fading.

"I don't…" she mumbled, looking back down at the glass in her hand. "I'm not sure."

"You're drunk," Regina said flatly, crouching down beside her and prising the glass out of her hand. Emma didn't resist, but she kept clinging onto the photos.

As Regina placed the glass and the whisky bottle out of reach, she caught a closer glimpse of the picture in her hand: it was of Emma herself. She was young – probably only barely a teenager – and painfully skinny. Her posture was just as bad then as it was now, Regina noticed with a curl of her lip, and the expression on her face hadn't changed in the past 15 years: fierce. Defensive. Lonely.

Emma let out a hiccup, diverting Regina's attention away from it.

"For God's sake," she muttered. "How much of this did you drink?"

"I don't know," Emma replied. Her voice was wobbly.

Regina looked down at her. The last time she'd seen her, she'd been hunched over in Granny's, her red jacket shielding her body from view. Now she was back in her favourite white tank top, and Regina could see how thin her arms were getting. The enormous bruise that covered her broken ribs was visible through the fabric.

"You can't have eaten in days," Regina said slowly. She shifted on her knees so she was facing Emma head-on. "Emma? How much did you drink?"

"Not much," Emma said with a lopsided shrug. "It just sort of… hit me."

"Alcohol can do that when you're emaciated," Regina bit out. Emma just sighed and closed her eyes. The fact that she obviously didn't have the energy to argue was what scared Regina the most.

After a pause, Regina reached out a hand and placed it on Emma's shoulder. The second her fingers made contact with the bruised skin, Emma flinched violently, nearly toppling sideways in the process. As she moved, the strap of her tank top shifted and revealed the bandage that was still covering up her gunshot wound. Regina's stomach twisted at the sight of it.

Rolling her eyes at her own stupidity, she reached out again and touched Emma's elbow instead, moving slower this time. "Miss Swan. Why are you on your own?"

Emma opened her eyes and looked down at the fingers that were resting on her arm. The unfamiliar contact made her forehead crease.

She didn't answer right away, and something that was either impatience or panic or some sick mixture of the two made Regina shake her slightly. " _Emma_."

"What?"

"Why are you by yourself?"

"I don't need a babysitter," she muttered. "You said it yourself, remember? I'm a grown up. Grown ups take care of themselves."

Regina sighed, her eyes drifting to the photos that were spread out on Emma's other side. There were dozens of pictures of her, where she was young and angry and always, always alone.

Before she could summon a response, Emma let out a humourless laugh.

"The problem is, though, that I'm really tired of taking care of myself. I've been doing it forever. And it gets old really, really fast."

Regina suddenly realised that her fingers were still on Emma's arm. She yanked them away like she'd been burned.

She stood up and brushed off her knees. Emma couldn't stop her face from crumpling with disappointment as yet another person pulled away from her.

But then she looked up and realised that Regina was holding out her hand.

"Come on."

Emma swallowed. "Where?"

"Upstairs," Regina said, waiting for her to take it. "We need to get you into bed."

Emma groaned. Bed was the absolute last place she wanted to be anymore.

"Go away, Regina," she said, closing her eyes and hoping that if she blocked her out, Regina would leave of her own accord.

"No. I am not leaving you down here to wallow in self-pity all night. Now get up."

" _Please_ go away?"

"Miss Swan, I promise you that I'm stronger than I look," Regina said, although she was starting to doubt herself. "If you think I won't drag you up every single one of those stairs by myself then you'll find yourself sorely mistaken."

Emma just groaned, her head thudding back against the counter once more. She felt sick and the room was already tilting around her. The mere thought of trying to climb those stairs exhausted her.

A now-familiar pang of guilt stabbed Regina in the stomach as she looked down at her. She looked small and sad and pathetic, and she hated it. The sight of her having given up so entirely made her skin crawl.

She shook her head and crouched down, reaching out for her hands. Emma's eyes shot open the second she felt a set of cool fingers winding through her own.

"I'm going to pull you up now," Regina warned. It felt strange to be making so much physical contact with her, but she was pleased when Emma didn't pull away. "You might want to cooperate – I'm sure this will hurt more than enough without you struggling."

"Regina, just leave it," Emma said, although she still didn't let go of Regina's hands. Somewhere through the thick fog that was swirling through her head, she found herself noticing that the contact actually felt kind of nice. She'd spent so much time over the past two weeks avoiding everyone that she'd forgotten how comforting it could be to just be touched.

Regina ignored her protest and began to pull on her hands. Emma gasped at the sudden shock of pain that spread through her ribs and shoulder, and she quickly realised that Regina had been right: struggling was only going to make this worse.

She forced herself to her feet with a grumble of protest, and the second she was upright she felt an arm slide around her waist. She was grateful for it when she staggered to the side seconds later.

"Oh God," she muttered, pressing a hand over her eyes. Regina felt her swaying and clamped her more tightly against her side.

"No, no," she said. "No falling. And definitely no vomiting – we're getting you up those stairs if it kills me."

" _I'm_ going to kill you," Emma replied, pulling her hand away from her face once more. Regina looked at her and realised she was only inches away from the thick stitches that were still running down her temple. Her stomach tightened.

"Come on," she said as gently as possible. "Put your arm around me."

"I have a fucking gunshot wound in that shoulder, Regina," Emma tried to snap, but her voice was weak. When Regina didn't reply, she slowly did as she was told, taking deep breaths to try and push through the faint burn.

"Good. Now we're going to start walking, okay? Nice and slow."

Her patience was unnerving, but Emma couldn't focus on that for too long. As soon as they took one wobbly step across the room, everything started tilting and she found herself squeezing her arm more tightly around Regina's shoulders.

"It's okay. I'm not going to drop you," Regina said. Emma was heavier than she'd been anticipating, but she meant it: her arm was cradling her waist, and it wasn't about to let go.

It was a laborious process. Emma just about made it over to the stairs without falling, but as soon as they tried to take a step upward, she faltered. Her head was spinning and the ground felt unsteady beneath her feet, but every time she stumbled, Regina was there to catch her.

Regina could feel her back starting to ache and her teeth were gritting together with frustration, but she forced herself not to snap. Part of her longed to just give up and leave Emma where she was – eventually Mary Margaret would come home and find her on the stairs, and then she could deal with her herself – but she refused to do that either. As much as she tried to ignore it, she felt responsible. She felt guilty. She felt like she was the only person who Emma might actually listen to right then, and she had to get her safely into bed before she managed to injure herself even further.

They made it up another stair and Regina muttered in her ear, "You can do this. We're nearly there."

"Shut up," Emma responded, but she squeezed harder and forced herself up onto the next step.

"I'll shut up when I get you into that damn bed and not a minute sooner."

"God, you're so annoying," Emma groaned, hefting herself further up the staircase. She was gripping the railing with her right hand and the pressure was making her ribs burn.

Regina snorted. "That's rich coming from you."

"See? You just can't help yourself."

Regina was saved from having to respond again by the fact that they had finally reached the top of the stairs. She led Emma over to the only door and found a tiny, soulless bedroom waiting for her.

Before she could focus too much on the sad sight that was laid out before her, Regina found herself grabbing Emma tighter and tugging her back before she could throw herself down onto the bed, broken ribs or not.

"Carefully," she hissed, helping her sit down slowly. "I've just dragged you up a whole flight of stairs – I'm not taking you to the emergency room as well."

Emma ignored her. She just lay down on her side and brought her knees up to her chest, willing the room to stop tilting around her.

Regina could only stand beside the bed and watch her. She'd done her part and she knew she was free to go, but something was stopping her. When she saw that a single tear was swelling beneath Emma's eyelashes, she realised what it was.

With a sigh, Regina sat down on the edge of the bed and waited. This time, when she reached out to touch Emma's arm, she didn't jump.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

Emma shook her head. "No."

"Is this the first time you've admitted that?"

"I thought you were going to stop talking once you'd gotten me into bed?" Emma asked, scrubbing her fist beneath her eye.

Regina couldn't help but smirk at her attempt at hostility. "Looks like I lied."

When Emma didn't respond, Regina began to slowly rub her thumb against her arm. She'd done the same thing with Henry's cheek earlier – just a faint swish from left to right that she knew always calmed him down when he was upset. She didn't know what else to do, so she could only hope it would have the same effect on his mother.

Emma didn't comment on it, but a second later she pressed her hand over her eyes and groaned. "Jesus Christ. I feel like I'm on a fucking fairground ride."

Without thinking, Regina reached down and tapped Emma's leg. "Put your foot on the floor. It'll ground you."

"How the hell would you know something like that?" Emma asked. She didn't move, so Regina grabbed her ankle and adjusted her leg on her behalf.

She swallowed at the question, thinking back to the first night Emma had spent in Storybrooke – the night Henry had run away and returned with his birth mother. The night when Regina had shut herself in her office after everyone had left and drunk scotch until her teeth had gone numb.

Eventually she replied, "I don't know. I just do."

As she sat there, she found her eyes being drawn to the stitches that were still puckering Emma's temple. They were thick and black and made the cut running down the side of her face look even bigger than it was. As Emma lay there, curled up with one foot awkwardly resting on the floor, Regina couldn't help but notice how small she was – not just because she was losing weight, but because all her usual arrogance and hostility had vanished, and with them she'd lost five inches from her height. For the first time ever, Regina was forced to realise just how damaged she actually was.

 _And that's your fault._ The thought entered Regina's head before she was able to stop it.

It was Regina's curse that had caused Emma to grow up alone; her behaviour toward Moe that had made Emma get hurt. If it weren't for Regina, Emma would be perfectly healthy and her antagonistic bravado would still be in tact. Regina had long ago labelled her as a liability and a threat, but the woman lying beside her with her fist pressed against her mouth didn't seem dangerous anymore. Instead, she just looked like the little girl in the photographs downstairs – the one who kept getting attacked by life at every single turn.

Regina closed her eyes, continuing to rub her thumb over Emma's arm as she built up the courage to get the words out. "I'm sorry about what happened, Emma."

After a pause, Emma rolled onto her back, finally breaking contact with Regina's hand.

"I know," she replied. "It's okay."

"No, it's not."

"Well, no – not okay, exactly. But it will be."

Her words were still slurred, although Regina was finding it difficult to tell whether that was a result of the whisky or the exhaustion. Her eyes seemed to be flickering shut. Regina wondered if maybe the presence of someone else in her room might actually be helping her.

That reminded her of the other reason why she was concerned.

"Why are you alone tonight?"

Emma's eyes opened once more. "Because Mary Margaret went out."

"I realise that – but you told Henry that you and her were going to talk about it tonight."

"Talk about what?"

"The fight you had."

"Oh," Emma said flatly, wrinkling her nose and then wincing when she remembered that it was still broken. "Damn. He really is a smart kid."

Regina smiled tightly. "What were you fighting about?"

Emma opened her mouth to respond – to tell Regina that she had asked Mary Margaret not to go and meet David, because she was sick of their whole affair and because it was only going to end badly for everyone. It was a statement that Mary Margaret – exhausted after yet another evening of cooking for her roommate and then seeing the whole plate get scraped into the trash – had not appreciated.

But then Emma realised who she was talking to, and she stopped herself before the words could come spilling out. Regina was Kathryn's friend, after all. There also wasn't a chance that she already knew about the affair, seeing how nothing had been done to humiliate Mary Margaret for it.

Regina, meanwhile, was watching Emma patiently, waiting for her to say exactly that. The second her expression flickered, she knew she was going to lie.

"Nothing," she said, trying to smile. "Just… you know. Roommate stuff."

All Regina could do was nod and pretend that she believed her.

Silence followed, and Regina wondered whether maybe it was time for her to leave. Emma was still struggling to keep her eyes open, and Regina couldn't imagine that she'd appreciate falling asleep with the mayor staring at her.

But then Emma groaned and said, "My head hurts."

"Do you want me to go?"

"No." Emma said the word flatly and without embarrassment. Regina felt herself filled with a strange urge to reach out and stroke her hair, and she shoved both hands between her own knees and squeezed them to stop herself.

She wasn't sure how to fill the silence that followed, but luckily Emma did it for her.

"No one gets it."

"Gets what?" Regina asked slowly.

Tears suddenly filled Emma's eyes, and Regina felt herself flinching back from her.

"What it's like to feel so _lonely_ all the time," Emma blurted out. She could hear herself saying the words through the haze in her head, and even though she knew she was being stupid, she couldn't stop herself. "Like… even when I'm sitting with Mary Margaret or August or even Henry, I feel like I'm in a room full of people who are all laughing at some joke that I don't get. Do you…? I mean – do you ever get that?"

It didn't take long for Regina to flash through a series of memories where she was stood alone at the edge of ballrooms, the edge of parties, the edge of Granny's diner while everyone did their very best to avoid her.

"Yes," she said simply. "I get that."

Emma breathed a sigh of relief. "It feels like the lights are always turned off and I'm trying to find the light switch, and everyone's always like, 'God, Emma, just turn them back on will you? What's the big deal?' But I can't ever find it and sometimes it feels like I don't have a light switch at all. I'm just running around in the dark hoping I won't get hurt."

The words made Regina blink with their sheer honesty. She could hear from the crack in Emma's voice how much it had hurt to say them.

She waited for more, or for sudden inspiration to hit and tell her how she was supposed to reply, but Emma's eyes had finally shut completely. Regina watched for a few more moments, waiting for her to jolt awake or ask Regina why she was still sitting there, but neither happened: after weeks of barely enough rest to keep her functioning, Emma had fallen fast asleep. Her breathing was slow, and the tears on her face had dried.

Regina wanted to smile, but it was impossible when she still looked so weak. She may have fallen asleep because there was another presence in the room guarding her from all the things she was scared of, but there was every chance she would wake up again in 10 minutes wondering why she was alone.

But Regina couldn't stay for the rest of the night – partly because Henry was waiting for her at home, but mostly because she was certain Emma wouldn't be thrilled to see her when she woke up. After a few minutes, she forced herself to her feet and left the room, shutting the light off and closing the door behind her.

It was only when she was back in the kitchen that she realised what a mess Emma had made. The photographs were still spread across the floor, and there were multiple puddles of whisky left behind. The bottle that Regina had confiscated was sticky and had almost certainly left an amber ring on the countertop.

Part of her wanted to leave everything exactly as it was. It would serve Mary Margaret right if she had to spend 15 minutes scrubbing the stains out of her kitchen once she got home from fornicating with a married man. But another part of her – the part that was still anxious about the woman lying upstairs and what she'd have to deal with the following day – couldn't do that.

With a sigh, Regina hunted down a dishcloth and began cleaning up the whisky stains before she turned to the photographs and started clearing them away.

Just as she was gathering up the box and the blanket and placing them on the counter, Regina's eye was drawn to the photo that had ended up at the top of the pile. She separated it from the rest: Emma couldn't have been more than six in it, and her skinny legs were sticking out from the bottom of an ill-fitting pair of boy's shorts. Her hair was about three shades lighter than it was now, but the same fierceness hung about the angles of her face. There was also something in her eyes that Regina recognised, although she didn't want to acknowledge it. It reminded her of how Emma looked at her whenever she got scared by a sudden touch.

"Madam Mayor?"

Regina jumped, her head snapping up to find Mary Margaret standing in the open doorway. Her forehead was creased and, Regina noticed with disdain, her cardigan was buttoned up wrong.

"Miss Blanchard," she replied, her palms already sweating. She dropped the photographs into the box and thrust her hands into her pockets to hide them. "I was just... tidying."

Mary Margaret's eyes narrowed as they took in the box of Emma's things and the half-empty bottle of whisky sitting next to it. "Tidying."

Rolling her eyes to cover her embarrassment, Regina replied, "Yes. I thought that it might be a nice thing to do. It would save you from having to do it yourself when you got back from… wherever you've been."

As soon as Mary Margaret's face turned red, Regina felt better.

"Right," Mary Margaret said, stepping awkwardly into the kitchen. "But… why are you in my apartment in the first place? Where's Emma?"

"In bed."

"She's sleeping?"

"In a sense."

Mary Margaret's eyes immediately drifted back toward the bottle of whisky on the counter. "You gave her _alcohol_?"

"No, I didn't – she was already making inroads into that bottle when I arrived. You know, some might argue that she shouldn't have been left unaccompanied in her current state."

"I didn't…" Mary Margaret started to protest, until the reality of the situation dawned on her. Her face softened. "You came round because of Henry, didn't you?"

Regina bristled. "No."

"Yes, you did. You were worried about her."

The muscles in Regina's jaw went tight at the accusation, and she suddenly decided that she was far too tired to deal with either of the women in that apartment anymore.

Straightening her spine, she stepped out from behind the island and said, "I'm leaving now. Goodnight, Miss Blanchard."

Mary Margaret didn't try to stop her as she stormed past – she just watched her go, clutching hold of her necklace with one twitching hand.

Regina reached the threshold, but something stopped her before she could leave. She paused with her fingers resting on the doorknob.

She turned back around with a sigh. "She's still in a bad way. She needs someone to look out for her."

"I know," Mary Margaret said, her cheeks turning pink. "I just… needed a break."

 _You're her mother_ , Regina said to herself, her internal voice full of spite. _You don't get breaks from taking care of her._

But she couldn't say that out loud, so she just nodded.

"Goodnight," she said, finally heading out into the stairwell. She shut the door quietly behind her, ignoring the fact that she was being so delicate because she didn't want to wake Emma up again.

Regina drove home in silence. It was barely 10pm, but she felt exhausted. Her body was slumped and aching behind the wheel. When she arrived back at her house, Henry's light was off.

It wasn't until she was inside and shrugging her coat off that she realised there was something in her pocket. She reached in and pulled it out, blinking when she found the photo of six-year-old Emma in her baggy shorts.

Walking into her office and sitting down at her desk, Regina held the photograph in both hands. She stared down at it for a few minutes, taking in the suspicion in Emma's eyes and the way her hands were clenched into fists. Regina sighed and glanced toward the trashcan, knowing that was where she should put it – or, at the very least, she should return it to Emma and explain that she'd taken it by mistake.

She didn't do either of those things. Instead, she opened the bottom drawer of her desk and dropped the photograph inside, locking it quickly afterward.

On her way to bed, she stopped off in Henry's room to kiss him goodnight. He was buried beneath his covers, looking alarmingly similar to how Emma had looked when Regina had left her. She smiled tightly and kissed the top of his head, half hoping he would stir just so she would have someone to talk to. He didn't, and Regina was forced to go to her own bedroom alone.


	6. Chapter 6

“I know you’ve been blaming your mom for all of this, Henry,” August said, stirring his spoon through his coffee. “But honestly, I don’t think Regina can be held responsible for all of it. The Moe thing was a mess, but things are complicated.”

Henry plucked a marshmallow from the top of his hot chocolate. “I know.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” Henry said. “I was angry at her at first because she wouldn’t tell me what had happened with Emma and that man, and she wouldn’t go see her even though I knew she was worried about her. The day she came back from City Hall after Emma got shot, she locked herself in her office and cried for an hour. Then she made me dinner like nothing had happened.”

August’s eyebrows lifted at the admission, but he didn’t interrupt.

“I was mad at her for pretending not to care, but I know it’s not really her fault. Plus she did go and see her eventually. She’s trying to help.”

“When did she go and see her?” August asked. At one of their early-morning coffee meets, Emma had mentioned something about Regina stopping by a week after she’d been released from the hospital. According to her, she'd only succeeded in making her feel a whole hell of a lot worse.

“Just after the accident. And then last night.”

August froze with his coffee halfway to his lips. “She went again?”

“Yeah. She said she was worried about her.”

“Regina was worried about Emma?” August clarified. “Are you sure?”

Henry grinned. “I know - it sounds weird. But it happened.”

“Do you know how it went?”

“No. I was asleep by the time she came back, and then she left for work early again this morning.”

“Ah - I was wondering how you managed to get her to agree to let you see me.”

“She doesn’t need to know,” Henry said, draining the rest of his drink. “I don’t think she trusts you very much.”

“And so she shouldn’t. I’m absolutely not to be trusted by anyone.”

Henry laughed as he climbed out of the booth, hooking his backpack over one shoulder. “You’re weird. Do you want to walk me to school?”

August’s eyes flicked over to the clock hanging behind the counter. “Can’t, kiddo. Prior engagement.”

“Okay," Henry shrugged. "Thanks for the cocoa, anyway. See you around.”

Henry disappeared out the door and headed off to school on his own. August didn’t move from his seat. His arm was hooked over the back of his booth, and his aching leg was stretched out in front of him. For 10 minutes, he just waited.

Then the door opened and the bell chimed, and a mess of blonde hair was darting inside.

“I was starting to get worried,” August said as Emma slipped into the seat that her son had just vacated. “It’s late for you.”

“Sorry,” Emma said, nodding her thanks to Granny as she automatically brought over her usual drink. “Have you been here all morning?”

“I’ve been kept busy,” August replied, eyeing her closely. Her cheeks were pink from the brisk walk, which was unusual - over the past two weeks, he’d gotten used to her skin being a murky shade of pondwater grey.

Her eyes looked different, as well. The bruises were starting to fade, and the circles beneath them had gotten smaller.

“You should really get a job,” Emma said as she settled in, but August couldn’t focus on that.

“Have you _slept_?”

Emma blinked. “What?”

“You look different. And you’re not yawning.”

“I don’t always yawn.”

“Stop deflecting. Have you slept?”

“In a sense,” Emma said, glancing away.

“How’s that? You’ve either slept or you haven’t.”

“God, you’re pushy,” Emma said with a roll of her eyes. “I passed out. I got hammered and ended up sleeping it off for about six hours.”

August couldn’t help but laugh even in spite of how reckless that was. “How the hell did that come about? Mary Margaret can’t have been on board with it.”

“She wasn’t there.”

The laughter stopped immediately. “She left you alone?”

“She’s not my babysitter,” Emma said. “She had to go out.”

Suddenly, what Henry had told him made sense. No wonder Regina had been worried enough to go round there after dark. Emma wasn’t in a fit state to be left alone right then - anyone could see that.

“So you were alone all night?” he asked slowly. He instantly saw the twitch at the corner of Emma’s mouth.

“Mm.”

“You know, just because you have a self-professed superpower doesn’t mean you can get away with lying to me,” he said, grinning. “Who was there with you?”

“No one,” Emma said too quickly.

“Lying again. I really thought better of you.”

Emma groaned. “It’s not like that, August. I’m not having an affair or anything.”

“But someone was there?”

“Will you stop pushing it?” Emma snapped. “Someone came round but you don’t need to get your hopes up about it.”

“The fact that you’re trying to hide it tells me I do.”

“Jesus,” Emma groaned, looking up at the ceiling. “Fine. Regina came over. She wanted to check on me.”

There it was. Even though August already knew this, he didn’t have to feign his own surprise over it.

“The mayor?” he asked. “Seriously? Doesn’t she—?”

“Hate my guts? Yeah, she does.”

“That’s an interesting development, then,” August said, scratching his chin. “How did that go?”

Emma wetted her lips. “It was... weird.”

“She didn’t try to cast a spell on you, did she?”

With a snort of laughter, Emma said, “No, not exactly.”

“Then what happened?”

“I don’t really know. I was pretty out of it. But from what I can remember she was... patient.  She helped me upstairs and put me to bed and she didn’t even yell at me for any of it.”

August blinked. None of that sounded right.

“Are you sure you didn’t hallucinate this?”

“No, August,” Emma said, rolling her eyes. She had wondered that, though - she had a vague memory of a cool hand resting on her arm; a thumb stroking her skin in an attempt to calm her down. Surely that couldn’t have actually happened.

“Sorry. It just seems a bit out of character for Madam Mayor.”

Emma looked thoughtfully back at him. “Yeah, I know. Maybe it was some kind of weird maternal thing? Or maybe she does actually feel guilty.”

August stayed silent. This wasn’t what he’d been expecting when he showed up in Storybrooke: finding out that the Evil Queen was suddenly a devoted mother had been a big enough surprise, but now she was displaying traces of actual humanity as well. Of her own free will, Regina had decided to go and check that Emma – the _saviour_ – was okay.

Something wasn’t adding up.

He took a gamble. “Can I ask you something?”

Emma swallowed her mouthful of cocoa, nodding. “Sure.”

“Since... what happened,” he began tentatively. “How have you and Regina been?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t really spent time with her.”

“But she’s been to see you twice now,” August persisted. “On those occasions - how were things?”

Emma ran a hand over her aching head and considered it. “She’s been... cautious with me.”

“Has there been any fighting? Are things normal?”

“‘Normal’,” Emma repeated the word, scoffing slightly. Then she shrugged. “No. Not really. I mean, we’re never going to be making each other friendship bracelets or anything, but she seems different.” After a pause, she added, “But that’s probably only because Henry asked her to do it.”

“Henry’s been asking her to be nice to you for months,” August pointed out.

“Right...”

“And you said yourself that this whole thing has worked out pretty well for her in theory – her competition is gone now, plus she’s managed to put Sidney in the sheriff's office. Really, she doesn’t have any reason to be nice to you at all.”

It was all true, and it was something Emma had been mulling over for a while now. Her memory of the night before was hazy, but she couldn’t forget the way Regina had pulled her off the floor and helped her up the stairs. The arm around her waist had been so strong. The words muttered in her ear - _You can do this, Emma. I’ve got you_ \- had been the first thing in two weeks to make Emma believe that maybe she would be okay eventually.

August watched the thoughts that were ticking over her face and had one of his own: _the Evil Queen is capable of kindness. She might even care._

It was an unexpected realisation.

“I guess it’s not that strange for her to be civil to you at last,” he said slowly. “I mean, you have a lot in common.”

“We have Henry in common.”

“More than just him,” he insisted.

“I don’t see it,” she replied, pushing her barely touched drink away from her. “Honestly, I’m just relieved that she’s stopped trying to fuck me over at every turn. I don’t really care what her motives are as long as they don’t involve framing me for murder.”

August smiled weakly. “Yeah. Let’s hope.”

“I’ve got to go, anyway,” Emma said, pushing her hair back from her face. As she climbed out of the booth, she added, “I’m pretty sure Mary Margaret will have confiscated my whisky by now, so I’ll be back here at my usual time tomorrow.”

After she left, August stayed in his seat for a while. Granny came over and refilled his coffee, but he barely noticed. Instead, all he could think about was Regina: how her heart had softened enough to reach out to someone she was supposed to hate. How the Evil Queen had extended a hand and helped pull the saviour up off the floor.

* * *

“Mom?”

Regina looked up to find Henry loitering in the doorway to her office. She quickly dropped the glossy piece of paper she’d been examining and forced a smile.

“Henry,” she said, folding her arms on top of the desk. “Is everything okay?”

Henry wandered into the room and plonked himself down in the chair nearest to her. His feet didn’t quite reach the ground.

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“Sure - go ahead.”

“It’s about Emma.”

Regina tried to suppress a wince. She wondered when exactly her son had stopped being able to talk to her unless it was about his birth mother. “I guessed it might be.”

“She’s not getting better.”

“I know. But it’s still only been a couple of weeks.”

“You saw her last night,” he continued. “How was she?”

When his mother just pressed her lips together, Henry expected her to snap at him and tell him to leave. That’s what she used to do whenever he talked about Emma too much.

Instead, she deflated. “She was... not right. I’m just as worried about her as you are.”

“You are?”

“Of course I am,” Regina said, bristling slightly at the shock in his voice. “I know you still think I’m the Evil Queen, but I am capable of empathy sometimes.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I just...” Henry sighed. “I don’t get to see her anymore.”

“That’s not my fault—”

“I know,” he repeated. “That’s not what I meant. I just miss her, and I know she needs time to get better, but I feel like I could help if she would let me in.”

When Regina didn’t respond, he added, “But she let _you_ in. You got to help her. Right?”

“It wasn’t that simple,” Regina said. “She didn’t choose to. I had to fight a pretty hard battle with her last night.”

“That’s what you two always do,” he replied thoughtfully. “But it’s different this time, isn’t it?”

“Yes. It is. Miss Swan is... well. She’s not Miss Swan at the moment. She needs some support to help her get back there.”

“Right,” Henry said excitedly. “She needs support from her family.”

At once, Regina’s eyes narrowed. “I really hope you’re not talking about us.”

“I’m her son! And you’re my mom, which makes you her... I don’t know. Like her partner-in-law.”

“Henry,” Regina spluttered. “Please don’t read anything into this - just because I went round to check that she hadn’t killed herself doesn’t mean I want to be friends with her. It certainly doesn’t mean that I’m planning on forming some kind of co-parenting team.”

“You went to help without me even asking.”

“I just went to be nice.”

“Mom,” Henry sighed like she was the stupidest woman he’d ever met. “You do know that you don’t actually hate her, right?”

“I beg to differ.”

“You’re just scared of her,” Henry grandly informed her. “Neither of you realise it, but you’re both scared because you think the other person is going to take me away. But I want you both around, and I want you to be friends. You don’t need to be afraid anymore - especially not now when Emma actually needs your help.”

“I think you might be reading too much into two tiny little home visits,” Regina said. It was a weak protest, and Henry’s eyebrows immediately rose.

“Mom, she’s scared of everything at the moment,” he said flatly. “She doesn’t need to be scared of you too.”

“And according to you, what do I have to benefit from this? I don’t like Miss Swan. I don’t want her around. Personally, I’m enjoying the peace and quiet.”

Henry rolled his eyes at her. “No, you’re not. I’m not stupid, you know. If you help her and show her that she can trust you, you might actually get a friend out of it. Then you won’t have to fight anymore.”

Regina sighed. “Are you sure you’re only 10?”

“That’s what you keep telling me.”

“Then you’re too sneaky for your age,” Regina said. She shook her head slightly. “Fine. I’ll... try reaching out. But only because you asked me to - you don’t deserve to feel abandoned by that terrible woman all over again.”

Henry ignored that, since it was so obviously a lie. “It’s for you too. You want her to be better again.”

“I don’t care—”

“Not having to hate her anymore will be good for you,” Henry said, hopping up from his chair. “And so will not having to feel guilty anymore.”

Regina spluttered, “What do I have to feel guilty about?”

“Emma’s nice, Mom,” he replied, ignoring her question. “She just needs her family around her, and since she won’t let me in, then you’re going to have to do it for me.”

Too many confusing, questionable sentences had come out of her son’s mouth over the past five minutes, and Regina had lost the will to reply by the time he'd said his last one. He headed for the door, a newfound spring in his step, and left her alone. As soon as he was gone, she looked down at the photograph of Emma that she’d been staring at when he’d walked in.

_You don’t have to be scared of each other._

Maybe he was right, she conceded. Maybe having one less enemy could only be a good thing.

It was only then, as she looked down at the picture of the woman he was fighting so hard to take care of, that Regina realised it was the first time her son had stepped foot in that room in over a year.


	7. Chapter 7

“Oh, God.”

A week later, that was Emma’s greeting as she opened the door to find the mayor standing on the other side. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet, trying and failing to hide how awkward she felt.

Regina smiled tightly at the outburst. “Nice to see you too.”

“I haven’t been drinking again,” Emma said flatly, keeping the door half-shut. “You don’t need to check up on me.”

“It’s barely noon, so I certainly hope not.”

Emma frowned. Regina sounded casual, but her hands were twitching by her sides and the cool smile on her face looked forced.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“I took an early lunch,” Regina said, nodding to the apartment. “I have some things I wanted to discuss with you - can I come in?”

Pushing down a sigh, Emma inched the door open. “Sure.”

Regina stepped over the threshold and walked toward the kitchen. She waited for Emma to close the door and join her before she sat down at the island, feeling no less uncomfortable than the last two times she’d been there and arguably even less sure as to why she’d made the journey in the first place.

As Emma walked past her and headed over to the cabinet where the coffee was kept, Regina said, “You’ve had your stitches out.”

“Yeah,” Emma said distractedly. She was standing on her tip-toes, struggling to reach the mugs on the top shelf with her ribs still hurting. “They’ve been out for a few days, actually. It’s been three weeks since... you know.”

Although Regina already knew that, it was jarring to fully realise just how much time had passed. The stitches were gone, the bruises had nearly faded, and Regina had to assume Emma’s ribs and nose must also be healing, however slowly. The only thing left to fix was everything else.

“Three weeks,” Regina repeated, her eyes on Emma’s slumped posture. “Has it really been that long?”

“So I’m told,” Emma replied, not turning around. She was making their coffee quickly, like she was hoping to get Regina out of her apartment again as soon as possible. Through her shirt, Regina could see the line of her spine and the faint bumps of her ribs. She was still losing weight, although that wasn’t much of a surprise, and the way she was standing was awkward and so painfully unlike her. Whenever she paused in her movements, she automatically crossed her arms over her chest like she was trying to protect herself.

Once the coffee was finally made and Emma had made her way over to where Regina was sitting, Regina forced herself to speak.

“My son misses you.”

Emma visibly flinched. She put the mugs down on the counter and slid one across to the opposite side. “I know.”

“Are you planning on spending time with him again soon?”

“Oh, you actually want me to see him now?” Emma asked, her voice flat. “That’s a novelty.”

Regina bit her lip. On her way over to the loft, she’d convinced herself that Emma would have recovered a little by now. Surely over the past three weeks, the frightened child who had replaced her sheriff would have grown up again.

She was wrong, though. Emma could barely make eye contact.

“Of course I do,” Regina said slowly. “He thinks you’ve abandoned him. We all know you’re struggling at the moment, and of course he understands how hard this is for you, but he also knows that you’ve been spending time with August every morning even though you refuse to spend time with him. Surely I don’t need to tell you how hurtful that is to him?”

“No, Regina, you don’t,” Emma snapped. The sudden hostility in her voice actually made Regina feel relieved. “I’m not a complete idiot. But do you really think spending time with me when I’m like this is going to be good for him? I can’t even _hug_ him. He wants to be around the old me, and I just don’t feel like her anymore.”

“I realise that, but it’s not like you’ve ever been juggling oranges and making balloon animals for him,” Regina said, hoping a joke might lighten the mood. Emma stared sullenly back at her. “He likes you anyway. You can’t seriously believe that seeing you like this will scare him off.”

“He’s a _kid_. I may not have much experience with childcare, but I do know that seeing your mother randomly breaking down into tears is bound to be a little upsetting.”

“No more so than being shut out entirely, though,” Regina pointed out. Emma shot her a look, but didn’t reply. “Miss Swan, I’m just asking that you try. And I know,” she added before Emma could protest, “that you already are. I know that things are impossible for you right now and that you’re doing your best. But like it or not, when you made the decision to walk back into your son’s life, you took on a whole load of responsibilities with it. And I’m afraid that includes spending time with him when you’d rather curl up in a ball and cry.”

Emma’s expression suddenly shifted into a frown. When she looked curiously across the counter, Regina leaned back from her. “What?”

“Nothing,” Emma said, shaking her head. She was struggling to get the thought of Regina feeling exactly like that but battling on nonetheless out of her mind. “You’re just being very candid today.”

Regina smiled tightly. “I figured that our usual arrangement of bickering and threatening probably wouldn’t be so effective.”

Emma forced a smile in return, then looked down at her coffee. She’d overfilled the cup and, as she slowly lifted it to her lips, the liquid trembled. She hunched her shoulders to try and stop herself from spilling, and Regina couldn’t help but deflate at the sight of her. She looked pathetic.

When Regina spoke again, her voice was slightly strained. “I didn’t only come here about Henry.”

Emma’s eyes flicked up. “No?”

“No. I...” Regina started, knowing full well that this was most likely going to go down badly and bracing herself for the response. “I came here to ask whether you’d had any thoughts on when you might return to work.”

At once, Emma’s face clouded over. She put her mug down with a shaky hand. “Seriously?”

“Emma, this isn’t healthy,” Regina said, gesturing to her slumped posture and thin wrists. “You’ve been locked up in this apartment for three weeks now. The only time you go out is at the crack of dawn when you think that no one else will see you. How can you expect to recover if you refuse to live your life anymore?”

She could see the anger on Emma’s face, but she didn’t care about that. She’d missed it.

“Look,” Emma said slowly, trying to keep her voice steady. “I didn’t just get in a fender bender, Regina. You gave me indefinite leave from the sheriff station because the thing that happened to me was bad. Really bad. You must know that it’s going to take me a while before I feel back to normal.”

“Of course I know that. I’m not expecting you to miraculously recover just because I snapped my fingers,” Regina replied, taking a sip of her coffee just to prove her dedication. She immediately wished she hadn’t when a clump of it got wedged in one of her molars. “I’m not saying you’re ready to go back full time, because it’s quite evident that you’re not. All I’m saying is that at this rate, you’ll never be ready to go back at all. I just think we should talk about a plan to ease you back in.”

“I’m not going back.”

“You have to take the leap at some point.”

“No, I don’t,” Emma said. She sounded slightly panicked.

“Miss Swan, I promise it’ll be okay. Sidney will be there to help you. It might even be nice for you to have an... ally around the office.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed at her choice of word. That was exactly what Sidney had referred to himself as a week before the shooting had happened.

“I’m not ready for this,” she said eventually. “I promise. I wish I was, but I’m not.”

“And how exactly is sitting around here all day going to make you more so?” Regina asked sharply. “You’re getting worse. You obviously still aren’t eating or sleeping, and you look at everyone like you’re terrified they’re going to try and kill you the second your back is turned. And you’re being _reckless_ , to cap things off - the night I came round here to check on you, you easily could have—”

“Stop,” Emma interrupted, her eyes flashing. Regina saw the message in her gaze loud and clear: they weren’t going to talk about that night. Not now, not ever. “You need to stop all of this.”

“It’s only Wednesday. By Monday, you might feel different.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

“So, what?” Regina asked, her patience finally wearing thin. “You’re just never going to discuss this again? Am I supposed to sit around waiting for the next six months until you finally deign to show up at work?”

“What do you _want_ from me?” Emma demanded.

“I want you to have a frank discussion with me about your next steps. If you tell me that you need two more weeks, that’s fine. If you tell me you need two more months, then we’ll deal with that too. But I’m not going to sit here letting you drag your heels and put off the rest of your life because you can’t bear to look beyond your own front door anymore.”

Emma flinched back from her. Weirdly, in spite of everything that had ever happened between them, she thought that might be the cruellest thing Regina had ever said.

“You’re really going to force me to do this?” she asked quietly. Regina sighed at once.

“I’m not forcing you. Or at least, I’m trying not to,” she clarified. “I know you’re not ready to dive back into your old life again. But I also know that this isn’t about you being ready - not really. It’s about you being scared. And I’m here because I want to show you that you don’t have to be anymore.”

Emma snorted lightly. “How’s that?”

“Because we’re here,” Regina said. “Henry and I. And your roommate, and that awful biker. Everyone’s here for you and we’ll help you through it. You don’t need to do anything alone.”

Regina felt mildly offended by just how shocked Emma looked at that. She even gripped hold of the counter like she was worried she was about to fall.

“You’re...?” she started, then had to stop and swallow through her dry mouth. “You want to help me?”

“I do,” Regina said. The words tasted awful.

“Because Henry asked you to, I’m guessing?”

“I... Partly,” Regina admitted, because there was little point in lying. “But also because I know you feel alone, and you shouldn’t feel like that right now. I do actually want to make things better.”

It was maybe the most surprising thing that had happened to Emma since the day her long-lost son had shown up at her front door. She couldn’t even bring herself to smile.

“I just...” she faltered immediately, trying to summon the words. “I’m just not sure I can do it.”

“But you can try,” Regina said as gently as possible. “Just one day. That’s all I’m asking for. You can even turn around and leave again after 10 minutes if you realise it really is too much. I just want you to try and let yourself believe that things can go back to normal - it feels terrifying now, but once you get there you might be surprised by how comforting it is to just be living again.”

Emma sighed. “Why do you even care? You’ve got what you wanted - Sidney’s in office. You’re really willing to give that up?”

The length of the pause that followed was not lost on her.

“As it turns out,” Regina said eventually, “Sidney is... slightly less competent than I originally gave him credit for. Consider yourself to be the lesser of two evils.”

Finally, Regina was blessed with an actual smile. She’d been waiting weeks for it.

“What a surprise,” Emma said, her voice almost playful. “Well, I’ll take the compliment, as feeble as it was.”

“You should. It’s the closest you’re ever going to get to one.”

Emma chuckled, and for a second things felt normal. Good, even. The air wasn’t crackling with animosity for once, and Regina was finally able to see what Henry had meant when he’d adamantly informed her that Emma was actually nice.

Then Emma sighed. Her face fell. “I’m not promising anything.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

“I mean, I’m _really_ not promising anything. This whole idea is insane, and if I end up back in the sheriff station by October then you can consider yourself a miracle worker.”

“Miss Swan, please stop panicking,” Regina said, longing to reach out and touch her hand but knowing full well what kind of reaction that would get her. “I just want you to consider it.”

Emma nodded, rubbing her fingers against her temples. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

“Excellent. That’s all I ask.”

When Emma didn’t respond to that - just looked back at her with wide, uncertain eyes - Regina decided it was finally time to leave her in peace. Abandoning her coffee, she slipped down from her stool and said, “I suppose I should get back to work. Unless...” She paused. She wasn’t sure why she was saying this at all. “Unless you need me to stay?”

Her heart jolted in case Emma cried and grabbed hold of her and told her that yes, she did - she needed her around to make her feel just slightly better. She didn’t, though. She just blinked.

“Why would I need you to stay?” she asked flatly, looking down at her feet. “I can look after myself.”

Regina wasn’t sure whether she remembered slurring those words to her when she’d been curled up on the kitchen floor. Her gaze was still directed at the ground, and her bland expression gave nothing away.

“Right,” Regina said eventually. She paused to button her coat. “I’ll see myself out, then.”

She turned and headed for the door, wanting to thank Emma for hearing her out but knowing Emma wouldn’t be willing to lie and tell her it wasn’t a problem. When she reached the door, though, a small voice called her back. “Hey, Regina?”

Regina turned at once. “Mm?”

“Can you...” Emma muttered, her eyes focusing on the way her big toe was nudging at a gap in the floorboards. Her arms were still crossed over her chest. “Can you tell Henry that I miss him too?”

Something sharp hit Regina in the back of the throat.

“Of course.”

She left before Emma could say anything else that would make her feel desperately sorry for her. She hated that feeling, although she was surprised by the fact that it wasn't because she loathed feeling anything akin to sympathy for this woman - it was because she hated the fact that Emma felt so terrible in the first place.

She shut the door behind her and paused, clasping her hand against her stomach as she waited for her breathing to slow.

On the other side of the door, Emma stood silently, her eyes no longer on the floor but on the space where Regina had been standing only a minute earlier.


	8. Chapter 8

It was 9:28am when the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Regina. She's not here."

Regina sighed. She couldn't say she was surprised. She thought back to Emma's expression the previous week - the fear and uncertainty in her sleepless eyes  **–** and she wasn't sure why she'd ever been hopeful that she might return to work at all.

"Thank you Sidney," she said, reaching for her keys. "I'll take care of it."

She locked the office behind her and made her way across town, her fingers twitching in her pockets as she imagined what was going to be waiting for her.

* * *

"You said you weren't going to force me."

Emma didn't bother to say hello. The second she opened the door and saw Regina standing there, her face had crumpled.

"I'm not here to force you," Regina replied. "I just wanted to check you're okay."

"Really?" Emma asked, leaning her head against the doorframe. "Why?"

"Because part of me thought you actually would go back this morning, so when you didn't, I was concerned."

Regina glanced down at Emma's body as she spoke and realised with a jolt that she was wearing boots and a jacket. She didn't look like a woman who'd woken up intending to stay inside all day.

Emma sighed. "I'm not ready, Regina."

"I know you're not. Which is exactly why I'm worried."

"You don't need to be - I'm fine."

"I'm getting a little tired of that record, you know," Regina said, suddenly stepping forward and breezing her way into the apartment without being invited. Emma staggered to the side to avoid making contact with her. "You're not fooling anyone, so you might as well save your breath."

Emma let out a frustrated huff and shut the door behind them. She turned and folded her arms, ready to defend herself, but found Regina watching her curiously with her eyes still taking in her clothes.

"It looks like you woke up with good intentions," Regina said, although she noted that Emma's posture was more slumped than ever. It didn't look like her hair had been washed or even brushed since she'd last seen her.

Emma shrugged. "Kind of. Although I didn't exactly wake up."

"You're still not sleeping?"

"That's a matter of opinion," Emma said, trying to smile. "If 30 minutes a night counts as sleeping, then sure, I'm sleeping like a log."

Regina ignored her pathetic attempt at a joke. "Miss Swan..."

"But yes - if you must know, I was planning on coming in today."

"So what changed?"

"Seriously? Look at me," Emma said, gesturing down at herself. "I'm not exactly at the top of my game. I can't go into work like this."

"No one's expecting you to wrestle a drugs lord. I wasn't even going to ask you to do any paperwork. All I wanted was for you to go into the office for five minutes, just to prove to yourself that you can. That was it. I promise."

Emma's nose wrinkled. "And how is that helpful to anyone?"

"It's helpful because the second you get back there, you'll see how not scary it is. It might even be boring. I think it would be good for you to realise that."

It sort of made sense, although Emma wasn't about to admit it.

"Yeah, well..." she muttered, looking down at the floor. "I wanted to. I did. But then I went to put my other boots on and realised they had blood on them, and I just..."

Her sentence wisped off into nothing, and Regina couldn't blame her. She realised then that Emma was wearing her red jacket, and that was probably because her brown one had a bullet hole in the shoulder.

She watched her for a moment, wishing she knew more about her so she could try to make any of this better. In the end, all she could do was turn and walk into the kitchen.

Emma looked up at the sudden movement. "What are you doing?"

"You need caffeine," Regina said, switching the coffee machine on. "And none of that disgusting instant stuff you forced on me last time. Real coffee."

"But that's..." Emma started, taking a step toward the kitchen. "It's Mary Margaret's."

"She can come to me if she has a problem with it," Regina said, not turning around. She rummaged in the cabinet for a second, trying to find the right mug. "Now sit."

Quite inexplicably, Emma found herself doing as she was told.

She perched herself awkwardly on the barstool that Regina had sat on the week before and watched as she swept around the kitchen. She moved like she owned the place - which, Emma realised, she kind of did. This was her town, and she certainly knew how to act like it.

But then she noticed exactly what Regina was making. "Wait. What are you doing?"

"Making you a coffee, Miss Swan," Regina said, still not looking round. "Do you need milk or sugar?"

"I... Milk, but I **—** "

"I'm not poisoning it, I promise."

"Regina," Emma spluttered. "You're making it in a _thermos_."

"I know. This is a to-go order." Regina didn't look over her shoulder, because she knew exactly what kind of agonised expression Emma would have on her face. She heard her whimper of protest - it sounded like a dog being thrown out into the yard.

"I never said I was going."

"But you were planning to this morning," Regina said calmly, continuing to make the coffee without looking round. "Nothing's changed."

"I told you. I can't **—** "

"Nothing's changed," Regina repeated, finally turning her head. Emma's mouth snapped shut. "You were willing to try this morning. All that's happened since then is you've managed to scare yourself out of it. So, we're going to go for a walk together, and you're going to go to the sheriff station. If you feel up to it, you'll walk inside. If you don't, then I'll take you home again. It's that easy."

Emma was left gripping hold of the edge of the counter to stop herself from slipping off her chair.

"Regina," she said slowly. "I honestly don't know whether you're trying to antagonise me or trying to be genuinely helpful, but either way, this isn't any of your business. I get to decide when I go back to work, and today, I'm not ready."

She thrust her chin out, finally feeling like she might have convinced her, and waited for a response. When Regina just looked back at her with her eyebrows raised, her confidence vanished again.

Regina took a step forward, then another, until she was leaning forward against the opposite side of the counter. Her gaze was dark and sincere.

"You're scared."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Is that so surprising?"

"No, it's not. But it is disappointing."

Emma's mouth popped open. "What the hell do **—** "

"A few months ago," Regina interrupted in an infuriatingly level voice, "you told me not to underestimate you. You said that I had no idea what you were capable of. Do you remember that?"

"Yes," Emma forced out through gritted teeth. "What's your point?"

"That woman is the same person who punched me in the face outside my own father's grave. The same woman who fought tooth and nail for a job that she wasn't even sure she wanted just to prove a point, and who stood up to a man with a gun to protect me and everyone else in this town."

"I didn't **—** "

"And while that woman might be extremely abrasive, and irritating, and poorly dressed - I can't pretend that I don't admire her."

Emma blinked. "Wait. What?"

"I'm not saying it again," Regina replied crisply. "What I'm trying to tell you is that you have every right to be afraid. You also have every right to quit your job and leave this town for good if you decide it's too hard for you to stay here. But I think we both know that that woman - the one who climbed down a mine shaft to save my son's life - isn't about to do that. That woman is waiting to take a deep breath and walk back into her office again."

Emma stared sullenly back at her. For the first time in weeks, her eyes were flashing with something that wasn't fear. "I can't believe you're using all that against me."

"I play dirty," Regina replied, smirking. "Am I wrong?"

With a sigh, Emma admitted, "No."

"Are you willing to give it a try?" Regina pressed, watching her carefully. "No paperwork, and definitely no street patrols. Just 10 steps into the office, a quick hello to Sidney and asking him what he's been working on. Then you can run back home again and take off that God-awful jacket and maybe even get some sleep knowing that you did it. You don't need to be scared of the whole world, Miss Swan - it's not all teeth and claws."

"Just the parts of it that I've seen," Emma muttered, rubbing her eyes. Finally, with her fingers still covering most of her face, she groaned, "Fine. I'll go in and I'll speak to Sidney and I'll let him know that I'm actually alive. But that's it, okay? If I get there and find that you've got three weeks' worth of incident reports waiting for me to file, I will not hesitate in coming back here for my car just so I can run you over with it. Got it?"

Regina fought not to smile. "I wouldn't expect any less."

But Emma saw the glimmer of relief in her eyes, and it startled her. When Regina turned back to the coffee machine, not saying another word, her shoulders looked so much looser than they had done 10 minutes earlier.

* * *

"Are you really okay walking in those?" Emma asked. Her eyes were on Regina's impractically high black heels. They'd been walking in near-silence for five minutes, which would have been enough time for Emma to break both her ankles if she was wearing similar footwear. Regina, however, was striding along like she'd lost all feeling in her feet years ago.

"I'm fine," she replied, looking straight ahead. "Besides, the fresh air is good for you."

"You didn't actually have to escort me."

"Of course I did. If I left you to your own devices, you'd hole up in Granny's all day and then lie to me about it later when I asked how the station was."

Emma scoffed. "I would not."

Regina didn't reply, because they both knew that she would.

There was something in Emma's tone that Regina didn't like, though: her voice was wobbly and uncertain, and the fact that she hadn't looked Regina in the eye since they'd left the apartment was starting to become both alarming and annoying. Regina glanced over at her and frowned. Emma had been subdued long before she'd opened the front door - that much was obvious. Now, though, she was far beyond that. She looked totally defeated as she shuffled down the street. She was clutching the thermos between her hands like a child holding onto her lunchbox on the first day of school, and Regina realised with a jolt just how much she looked like Henry. She looked small and scared and like she was stubbornly forcing herself not to cry.

Regina swallowed and, before she could stop herself, heard herself say, "It's going to be okay, you know."

The softness of her voice startled Emma enough to make her meet her gaze. "Easy for you to say."

"Sidney's there to help you."

"Right," Emma said flatly, looking down again. "Because he was so much help the last time I was in trouble."

That thought made Regina's entire body jerk. Since Emma still thought that she and Sidney were on the same team, Regina had been convinced she would enjoy having a friend around the office. She hadn't even considered the possibility that she might not want to see him again - she hadn't considered the fact that Sidney had been there in the room when Moe had repeatedly beaten her, and he hadn't done a single thing to help her.

"Oh," Regina said eventually, feeling that now-familiar scratch of guilt at the base of her throat. "I'm sorry. I didn't even **—** "

"It's okay," Emma said, tightening her grip on the thermos. "Sorry - I'm not trying to be difficult. I'm just... you know."

"I know," Regina said, although of course she didn't really.

They walked in silence for a few more minutes, passing Granny's on the other side of the road. Regina's eyes were automatically drawn to it, like she was still expecting to see Emma there just as she had done every morning for the past two weeks. Instead, she found a pair of eyes looking back at her. They were bright blue and watching her with confusion, like they couldn't register the sight of the Evil Queen and the saviour walking together in the first place. As Regina looked back, August frowned and got up from his seat, walking into the back of the diner without turning round again.

"How's Henry doing?"

The sudden question made Regina jump. "Sorry?"

"Henry," Emma repeated. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine," Regina replied, thinking back to the delighted expression on her son's face when she'd come home the previous week and told him that she'd been to see his birth mother again. It had been followed by a flash of disappointment when Regina had told him that Emma probably wasn't ready to see him again just yet.

Even though she didn't say any of that out loud, Emma somehow managed to pick up on it. "Oh."

"He understands, Emma," Regina hastily added, unable to bear the look on her face. "Really. He just misses you. He's 10 and he wants things to go back to normal."

Emma forced a smile. "Normal. Right."

In the silence that followed, Regina realised she could hear coffee splashing around in the cup between Emma's shaking hands. Something hard rose against the back of her throat.

"I'm surprised he wants to see me at all," Emma admitted after a while. "I've been terrible recently. It would serve me right if he told me to go back to Boston and never speak to him again."

"You know he'd never do that," Regina replied. It hurt her to admit it, but for once this wasn't about her own feelings.

"He might. I'd deserve it if he did."

"Emma. I know he can be quite fickle at times, but he... loves you. He just wants to see you get better."

When Emma didn't reply, Regina felt her irritation surge back up again. "He's trying to be patient and understanding, but he's 10 years old. He's struggling. We're _all_ struggling. I know things are impossibly hard for you at the moment, but I think it would be beneficial - not just for him, but for you as well - if you let him back into your life. There's only so much rejection a small boy can take, you know."

She suddenly realised that they'd stopped walking. They were half a block away from the sheriff station and Emma was looking at her with wide, uncertain eyes that Regina didn't recognise. Her left hand had crept up and was fiddling with the swan necklace around her throat. It was exactly the same nervous habit that Mary Margaret often displayed. Regina hadn't realised you could inherit such a thing from your mother after going 28 years without even meeting her.

And there it was again: guilt, tearing through her chest like a fishing hook.

"You want me to come back?" Emma asked uncertainly.

Regina immediately shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat. "Henry wants it."

"But you just said **—** "

"I know what I said," Regina snapped. "Fine - yes. I think it would be good for you to come back to us. I'm _requesting_ that you do. Satisfied?"

Emma smiled. "Yeah. Kind of."

"Then you're far too easily pleased. I'm not inviting you for Thanksgiving dinner just yet - don't get your hopes up."

There was still a tiny smile on Emma's face when she looked down at the sidewalk. "If you say so, Madam Mayor."

But then her smile faded as she looked back up and took in the brick building that was waiting for her at the end of the block. She took a breath. "Well. I guess I'd better do this thing, then."

All of a sudden, Regina wasn't so sure she should. Emma looked five inches shorter than normal and her skin was still a marshy shade of grey. Maybe she wasn't ready for this after all. Maybe by trying to help her, Regina was inadvertently making everything so much worse. 

"Miss Swan," she said awkwardly, digging her nails into her palms. Emma's curls, which Regina normally eyed with a disgusted sort of envy, were scraped back from her face in a haphazard ponytail, with her greasy roots making them look so much darker than normal. People were turning to stare at the pair of them as they walked past, and it was becoming more and more obvious just how not okay Emma still was. "I meant what I said before - if you walk inside and realise it's too much, I won't force you to stay."

Emma offered her a tight smile. "I know. But you were right - I should at least give it a shot."

Regina thought that giving it a shot might tip her over the edge entirely. Emma was hardly the picture of authority right then - not when she looked like she'd rather burst into tears than walk into her own office.

But then Emma straightened her shoulders, looking slightly more like the sheriff Regina remembered, and said, "Besides, I'm here now. It's as good a time as any."

Something that might have been admiration throbbed in Regina's chest. She smiled back at her.

"I'm very..." she started to say. She wanted to tell Emma that she was proud of her, but that was too much. She couldn't get the words out. "You're very brave, Miss Swan."

Even though it wasn't what she wanted to say, it still made Emma's face turn pink. "I don't feel very brave. But thanks."

"Would you like me to come in with you?"

"No. You've done enough. Honestly."

Regina frowned. "But..."

"Regina," Emma interrupted gently. "I mean it. You basically dragged me out of my apartment and I kind of hate you for it, but I'll probably be grateful for it later. So let's just leave it at that."

All Regina could do was nod. She didn't want to leave it - some strange part of her wanted to guide Emma into the building herself and look after her for the rest of the day. It was a feeling she'd never had for anyone except Henry - and maybe Snow, but only before she'd turned into a huge brat - and she didn't care for it. Hating this woman had been so much easier than feeling sorry for her.

Emma straightened up again and took a deep breath. "Right. Time to get this over with."

She gave Regina another tiny smile before she turned and headed across the road. Her walk was different now - her steps were smaller and she kept her head down, obviously hoping that no one would spot her.

If she knew that Regina's eyes were still on her, she didn't show it. She didn't turn around. Regina couldn't fathom why she felt slightly disappointed by that.

As soon as Emma disappeared into the station, Regina walked over to the nearest bench and sat down. She could see the main door from there, which meant she'd spot Emma the second she left again. She was expecting it to happen within the first few minutes.

She started to feel doubtful once she'd been there for 10. In the end, she waited for a full half hour before she had to admit to herself that Emma wasn't coming back.

She should have been happy about it - her plan had worked. Emma had obviously walked in and realised that the station wasn't as terrifying as she'd been imagining and that she could go back to work without trouble if she really wanted to. That was a good thing. But Regina felt disheartened by the fact that Emma obviously didn't need her - she'd imagined Emma leaving the station and sitting back down beside her and, with a sigh of relief, telling her how it had gone. Regina had been sort of looking forward to it.

She waited until it started raining again before she finally accepted that it wasn't going to happen. As Emma went back to her old life, Regina got up and slowly returned to her own.


	9. Chapter 9

"I don't get it," Henry said, leaning forward. "Are you sure that's what you saw?"

"Positive," August replied. He'd been replaying the scene over and over in his head ever since he'd witnessed it that morning.

"They were together? Walking?"

"And talking," August said. "Don't forget the talking."

Henry slumped back in his seat with a frown. "It doesn't make sense. My mom doesn't like Emma."

"I thought you said she went to see her again last week?"

"She did, but only because I asked her to. Why would she be walking her to work? And why wouldn't she tell me about it?"

"I have no idea," August admitted, although his heart was beating excitedly. "But that's what you need to try and find out."

"Me? Why?"

"Because your mom wouldn't tell anyone else. I hear she doesn't exactly have a way with making friends," August said, before pausing. "But I'm starting to think that her and Emma becoming friends might not be such a bad idea."

"I don't think that's going to happen," Henry said, wrinkling his nose.

"It's unlikely, sure. But for whatever reason, Emma actually seems to trust her at the moment - I don't think that's something we should just overlook."

"Well. I guess it would be nice for them to get along."

August nodded, although it was more than that to him - he knew who Regina truly was, and he knew about the curse she had placed on that town. It was one that Emma was destined to break, but she was too devastated to be doing anything about it right at that moment.

If the curse couldn't be broken yet, then maybe it needed weakening instead.

The Evil Queen had a black heart, but even black hearts could open up to some people. Right then, it seemed to be cracking around Emma. Maybe it was just guilt, but that alone was something August was willing to cling onto - if Regina was feeling guilty for hurting Emma, then maybe she wasn't so evil after all.

"Okay," Henry said slowly, interrupting his thoughts. "If you think there's actually a chance of them becoming friends, then we should make it happen."

"They have more in common than they'd ever admit. I don't think it's as unlikely as it seems."

"Right," Henry nodded. "I think my mom deserves to have a friends, you know."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I think she's lonely," he admitted. "I'm the only person she's got, and ever since Emma showed up I'm not around so much either. I just want her to be happy, you know? I want them both to be happy."

August couldn't help but smile. "You're a good kid."

"Not really," Henry replied, sliding out of the booth and grabbing his backpack. "Not recently."

He disappeared out the door and headed home, leaving August in his seat with a cold coffee in front of him. His leg was hurting, but he ignored it. He was preoccupied replaying the image of the Evil Queen and the saviour walking side by side, talking not like enemies, but like two people who actually understood one another. 

* * *

When Emma returned home that evening, she was exhausted and shaking under the weight of all the forms she'd taken off of Sidney. It was alarming to see just how many he'd managed to fill out incorrectly over the past three weeks, but in a way, she was relieved. Her job was still hers, at least. Now that she'd proven she was capable of going back to it, things might actually get back to normal.

She shoved open the front door and found her roommate standing in the middle of the kitchen, her face pale. She jumped when Emma walked in.

"Emma!" she gasped. "Where have you _been_?"

Dropping the stack of papers on the nearest counter, Emma replied, "I went to work."

"You could have told me," Mary Margaret snapped. "I've been worried sick. I got home and you were just gone. Then I called your cell and it was switched off and I didn't know what to do - I was about two seconds away from calling the police."

"That probably wouldn't have been such a bad idea," Emma said, rubbing her eyes. "Since if you had, you would have reached me."

Mary Margaret opened her mouth to reply, then paused. "Did you just make a joke?"

"Is that so surprising?"

"Well - a little bit, yeah." Mary Margaret suddenly approached Emma and took her chin in one hand. "Are you okay?"

Emma blinked back at her. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to work out what's going on. Why did you go back? And why didn't you tell me?"

"I... wasn't exactly planning to," Emma said, wriggling free. She approached the kitchen table and plopped down in her usual seat. "It's complicated."

"I'm listening," Mary Margaret insisted.

"Someone... put the idea in my head," Emma sighed as Mary Margaret sat down opposite her. "I was considering it all weekend, but then this morning decided I couldn't face it. And then I was kind of persuaded to do it anyway."

Her roommate looked back at her with slightly narrowed eyes. "Was this 'someone' Regina, by any chance?"

"...it might have been."

"She forced you?"

"No," Emma said firmly. "She didn't. Which was kind of weird in itself."

"Right," Mary Margaret said uncertainly. "So, what happened?"

Running her hands over her hair, Emma said, "I'm not even sure. It was weird. She came round to check I was okay, and she said she thought I should try and go back because it would help me to see how normal and not scary it was. She said that the more time I spend locked up in here, the worse the outside world will start to feel."

Mary Margaret's expression collapsed. "But I've been telling you that for weeks."

"I know," Emma said, reaching out for her hand. "I'm sorry. It's just... Regina was a bit more forceful about it. It's harder to say no to her."

"I guess," Mary Margaret admitted slightly huffily. "So, did she leave after that?"

"No. She walked me there."

Mary Margaret looked at her like she'd started dribbling coffee out of her nose. "What?"

"I know. I told you it was weird."

"Was she nice about it?"

"She was," Emma said, pausing. "She was really nice, actually. She was verging on patient. It was confusing."

Mary Margaret sat back in her chair, absorbing this information. She couldn't quite picture it: Mayor Mills being kind and understanding to the only person in that town whom she hated more than she hated Mary Margaret herself. It didn't make any sense.

But then she thought back to the night when she'd gone out to see David and had come home to find Regina loitering in her kitchen. Suddenly it wasn't so surprising after all.

"How did you guess it was Regina?" Emma asked, cutting off her thoughts.

"Hm?"

"Just now. You asked whether it was Regina who'd persuaded me. How did you know?"

Mary Margaret wrinkled her nose. "Oh. Well - how much do you remember from the night when we had a fight and I went out?"

Emma winced. They'd made a silent pact never to discuss that. "How is that relevant?"

"Because I know Regina came round then too."

"What? How?"

"She was still here when I got back."

Emma's face fell. "Oh, God. She was?"

"She'd been cleaning up the kitchen, I think."

Even though it was her least favourite thing to remember, Emma thought back to that night - to the mess of photos she'd left lying across the floor and the whisky she'd spilled all over the counters. It had all been gone in the morning, but she'd just assumed Mary Margaret had cleaned it up out of guilt. The idea that Regina had stuck around to tidy up after her had never even crossed her mind.

"Why?" she asked flatly. Mary Margaret shrugged back at her.

"I have no idea. She was putting all your photos back in the box when I walked in."

Emma jumped. "She was looking at my photos?"

"Yeah. She didn't notice me walking in because she was staring at one."

Sudden panic throbbed in Emma's temples. She could feel herself sweating. "Which one?"

"No idea."

God, no wonder Regina was suddenly acting so weird and understanding - she'd seen the box of secrets that Emma had always tried to hide from everyone. There was a very good reason why she didn't want anyone to see those photos of her grimy, loveless childhood: she hated a lot of things, but people's sympathy was by far the worst.

Although, maybe seeing a couple of dingy photos couldn't be accountable for Regina's entire shift in personality recently. She was only tidying them up, and she put them all back again. Guilt couldn't be that powerful a thing.

Right?

"The thing is," Mary Margaret said eventually, "Regina's always had a bit of an attitude problem, so it's easy to forget that there must be some good in her somewhere. But she adopted Henry, after all, and she loves him more than anything. So she must be capable of empathy and acting like a normal human being, even if it is with her sworn enemy."

Emma nodded slowly. "I know Henry still calls her the Evil Queen, but the weird thing is... Since the whole Moe situation, she hasn't been 'evil' at all."

"You think she feels guilty?"

"Oh, I know she feels guilty. She's never admitted it, but it's written all over her face." Emma paused, torn between not wanting to admit this and wanting to have someone help her make sense of it. "It's more than that, though. She's... trying to include me in her life, I think. I know Henry must have asked her to, but still. It's a huge step, and it's weird."

"Bad weird?"

"No, not bad. Not good either. Just... weird."

"You should make the most of it," Mary Margaret said. "Who knows how long it'll last."

"Yeah," Emma let out a snort of laughter. "Good point."

She fell quiet again, her eyes on the dented wooden table. The more she thought about Regina and what she had done for her that day, the less aware of her roommate's presence she became.

Eventually Mary Margaret stood up and said, "I'm going to take a shower."

Emma jumped. "Alright."

The second her roommate had left the kitchen, Emma's gaze strayed away from the table and toward the stairs that led to her bedroom. Something was niggling at the back of her mind. She got up and quietly walked upstairs while Mary Margaret was moving around in the bathroom.

The box she kept under her bed was normally a mess. She looked at its contents very rarely, and whenever she did she ended up throwing them back inside without much precision. Right then, when she removed the neatly folded blanket from the top, she found her photos carefully stacked and waiting in a pile. If she'd looked in there sooner, she would have realised right away that Regina had been near it.

Emma pulled the stack of photos out and began to flick through them. They suddenly felt different beneath her fingers - warmer, maybe, as if someone else was still holding them.

Something else felt strange, though. As Emma scanned them, she got the feeling that one was missing. She couldn't remember which - she'd never kept them in order, and there had been so many different foster homes that it was easy for a couple to slip her mind. Still, she was sure something had changed. But where would it have gone? It's not like Regina would have taken one - she couldn't care that much about her.

Emma frowned and put the pictures back, leaving them in their neat pile. The folded blanket went back on top, and then the box was pushed away out of sight once more.

* * *

Regina was just getting dinner out of the oven when there was a knock at the door. It was late, and she wasn't expecting company.

"Henry," she said, placing the casserole dish on top of the stove. "Can you finish setting the table? I'll just go see who that is."

Henry busied himself with the knives and forks as Regina walked out into the hall.

When she opened the door, she found Sidney waiting for her. He was wearing a long trench coat and a hat, like he was on some kind of stakeout. Regina tried not to laugh.

"Sidney," she said, leaning against the doorframe. "What are you doing here?"

"I have something for you," he replied, holding out a thick brown envelope. "I thought you might stop by the station at some point for it, but you never showed."

Regina frowned and took it from him. When she peeled it open, her heart stopped.

There were dozens of photos inside. Hundreds, maybe. All of them were of Emma - some from before the accident at City Hall and some from the weeks following it. Emma shuffling round town with her eyes half closed and her wounds still stitched shut; Emma slumped over the table at Granny's; even Emma sitting at her desk in the sheriff station that very morning. There were pages of notes detailing her movements and her behaviour. They spilled out into Regina's hands and she immediately felt sick from touching them.

"What the hell is this?" she asked. Her voice was icy.

Sidney blinked at her. "It's... what you asked for."

"When?"

"After the sheriff's election?" he stammered. "You told me to keep you updated on her every move. I've been doing it for weeks."

Regina was just about to throw the envelope in his face, but at that, she paused. _Oh_ , she said to herself. _That_.

That whole petty arrangement felt like it had happened years ago. Since the incident in City Hall, Regina had completely forgotten about her decision to force Sidney to trail after Emma, pretending to be her ally. With a jolt of guilt, she realised that Emma probably still thought he was.

"I forgot," she said flatly. The envelope was dangling between her thumb and forefinger because she couldn't bear to touch it properly. "You didn't think to stop after the City Hall incident?"

"You didn't tell me to," Sidney said anxiously. "I haven't had a chance to give them to you yet because I've been so busy filling in for Emma. I thought you--"

"Alright, Sidney, calm down," Regina sighed, opening the envelope once more and peering inside. "How did she do today?"

"Better than I expected, but she still struggled. It'll take a while before she's back to normal."

Regina nodded. She tucked the envelope under her arm.

"You'll probably be at the station for a while longer, then?"

"I think so."

"Fine," Regina said. She paused. "I don't think you need to follow her so closely anymore. She's no longer a threat. But if you could..."

She hesitated again, wondering how to phrase this. The truth was, she was going to be worried about Emma for a very long time, and she couldn't check up on her every day no matter how badly she wanted to. Having someone to report back to her about her progress would be useful. It would allow her to keep a distance while also making sure Emma was doing okay. It wasn't spying. Not really.

Maybe if she told herself that over and over again, the words would stop tasting so bad.

"I'd like you to keep an eye on her," she said eventually. "But subtly. No more taking photographs of her from three feet away. Just let me know how she's getting on and tell me if there are any developments I should be worried about - okay?"

Sidney nodded. "Do you still want photos?"

Half distracted by the fact that Henry was still waiting for his dinner, Regina muttered, "Fine. Whatever you like."

Sidney jerked his head again in an awkward nod and took that as his cue to leave. As he turned and hurried down the path, Regina removed the envelope from under her arm and stared at it again.

Eventually she shook herself back to reality and closed the door, heading straight into her office before Henry could come out and find her. The bottom drawer, where the other photo of Emma lived, was unlocked. Regina tossed the envelope inside, hating herself and also hating the fact that she cared so much about any of this. 

Deep down, she knew what would happen if Emma found out about this. She knew how much it would hurt her, and how quickly her already shaky trust in Regina would disintegrate. In spite of that, though, Regina tried to convince herself it was okay. She was worried about Emma, and since she couldn't realistically drop by the sheriff station every day, this was a viable alternative. She wasn't using Sidney maliciously, even though _he_ didn't realise that - she was using him because she wanted to be closer to the woman he was following.

She knew the excuses were hollow, but they were all she had.

She locked the photos away and returned to the kitchen. Henry looked up and frowned as soon as he laid eyes on her. "Mom? Are you okay?"

The image of Emma sitting in Granny's several weeks earlier, her face still pale and bruised, was tormenting her, but she forced a smile.

"I'm fine," she said, resting her hand against the back of his head. "Thank you for setting the table. Let's eat, shall we?"


	10. Chapter 10

"You're looking much better," Sidney said, watching Emma as she walked across the office the following Monday morning. He'd been relegated back to the deputy's desk, but that was okay - from out in the main bullpen, he had a clear view of everything that happened in the station.

Emma didn't look up. "Thanks."

She still didn't feel like her old self, but she knew Sidney was right - she looked different to how she had only a week before. She still wasn't sleeping more than an hour most nights and her temples were constantly pounding, but she was dressing herself properly and washing her hair again, and that was enough. She'd never admit it to Regina, but spending the past week back behind her desk had given her the sense of normality she'd so desperately been needing.

She didn't noticed that Sidney had started scribbling down notes in the pad on his desk.

"I thought you were meant to be back at the newspaper office today?" she called out after a moment. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him jump.

"I am. Later," he replied, swivelling in his chair. "But I thought I'd help out here this morning."

"That's... nice," Emma said, finally looking up properly. "But I'm okay - it's been a week. I think I've got it under control."

"You sure?" Sidney asked as she walked toward the door of her office. "I can stick around."

"You're meant to be back here tomorrow, right?" Emma replied, referring to the new arrangement they'd worked out at the end of the previous week: while Emma was easing back into things, Sidney would work between both of the offices. He would spend Tuesdays and Thursdays at the sheriff station for two more weeks, and then she'd be on her own once more.

He nodded. "Right."

"Then it's okay. Go do your newspaper stuff."

Sidney glanced down at his notepad, which only had two lines of text on it, and thought about what Regina would say when she saw it. Recently she'd been less controlling, less demanding, but he couldn't imagine she'd be okay with him suddenly neglecting his duty and trotting off to his other job just because Emma asked him to.

"But if you need me to stay, I really don't mind," he protested. "In fact, I can—"

"I'm sure that Sheriff Swan would tell you if she felt the station was about to crumble in your absence, Sidney."

The words wafted over from the main doorway. Both Emma and Sidney turned to look, even though the sound of the mayor's voice was too distinctive to ever be mistaken for someone else's.

Sidney immediately turned red. Emma, meanwhile, struggled not to smirk.

"Madam Mayor," he said, standing up and clutching his notepad to his stomach. "I was just saying—"

"I heard," Regina interrupted, stepping into the room with her usual cocky strut. "But I cleared your new arrangement because I agreed that it would be beneficial for both of you. I didn't do it because I wanted to pay you for working at the _Mirror_ while you're actually hovering about the sheriff making it impossible for her to do her job."

Sidney's mouth flapped open as he tried to absorb this. Eventually he could only nod, gather up his things and leave with a mumbled apology.

The second he was gone, Regina sauntered further into the room and perched herself on the edge of Sidney's desk. Emma was still leaning against the doorframe with a vaguely amused expression on her face.

"It's funny how many people feel the need to check up on me nowadays," she commented. Regina turned to look at the papers that Sidney had left behind, noting immediately that most of them were filled out wrong.

When she looked back up, Emma was already holding out her hand for them.

"That's because people are worried about you," Regina said, passing her the pile.

"I know. Should I assume that's why you're here as well?"

Emma held the papers loosely in the crook of her elbow, and for a second Regina spotted a flash of the old sheriff. She looked vaguely hostile and slightly bored, and Regina felt a surge of gratitude at her reappearance.

But then the light shifted and Regina saw the circles under her eyes. The scar that ran down her temple was deep and almost purple in colour, and she was standing awkwardly to one side because her shoulder and ribs were still aching.

Regina offered her a smile, trying not to look as nervous as she felt. "Partially. You have to accept that people are going to be concerned about you for a little while, though - especially when it's been nearly two months and you still don't look like you've slept properly."

"I'm fine," Emma said automatically. It was right at that moment that Regina noticed her trembling hands.

"And I'm bored of hearing you say that," Regina replied. She sat herself more comfortably on the desk and carried on before Emma could snap back at her. "But fine. Tell me: how was your first week back?"

Emma turned to toss the pile of forms onto her own desk. Regina watched her stilted movements with a knot in her stomach.

"It was okay," Emma replied as she turned back. "I mean, it was good. Sort of. Luckily no one got hit by a car or tried to rob the grocery store, though, because that would have tipped me totally over the edge."

"That's fair. But it wasn't too hard being back?"

Emma rolled her eyes, knowing what she was pushing for. "No. It was... I think it was what I needed. It took my mind off things."

She expected Regina to smirk with glee or maybe do a victory lap of the office, but instead her face fluttered with relief. She pushed herself further back on the desk so that her legs were dangling off the floor. "That's good. I'm glad."

Emma glanced down and, seeing the sudden stretch of long, tan leg that was visible from beneath Regina's skirt, tried not to blush. She snapped her gaze away again as soon as possible. "You are?"

"Of course. I was trying to help, but I was still a little worried that it would backfire. I didn't want coming back here to make things even worse for you."

Emma suddenly grinned. "You were doubting yourself? Has that ever happened before?"

"Not recently. Certainly not involving you."

"Right. Well, between this and you actually worrying about me, I'm starting to doubt your Evil Queen reputation."

Even though she knew Emma was kidding, Regina felt her jaw muscles tighten. She forced herself to smile back at her.

"Don't get too used to it," she replied. "I'm not planning on making a regular habit of either of those things."

"Good to know. I guess you can stop with the worrying now anyway, since the office isn't on fire and I'm clearly doing okay."

After a long pause where Regina found herself eyeing the sharp jut of Emma's collarbone, she said, "Clearly."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Was there another reason why you stopped by?"

Just like that, Regina's nerves returned to her. She hated that sick fluttering feeling in her stomach - it made her feel like things were spiralling out of control, and that was something she'd never been able to deal with very well.

She hadn't even told Henry she was about to do this just in case it backfired, but she knew she had to try. It was the right thing, and it was exactly the sort of thing her son wished she would do.

Regina gritted her teeth and said, "Yes, there was. I was just..."

She faltered almost at once. It was humiliating. Even Emma looked slightly shocked by it.

"Regina?"

"I was _wondering_ ," Regina continued, straightening her spine. When Emma's eyes flicked down to look at her crossed legs once more, she received the boost of confidence she needed to get through the second half of her sentence. "If you have any plans tonight."

Emma blinked. For a second, it looked like she hadn't understood the question.

After a few moments, she shakily said, "Um. No. Not... not that I know of."

"Good," Regina replied briskly, plastering on her familiar mayoral smile. "Because I wanted to invite you to have dinner with me and Henry."

Panic dropped like a stone in Emma's stomach. "What?"

"He doesn't know yet," Regina added as she watched the colour drain from Emma's face. "So if the answer is no, he won't be upset by it. But I think you should consider it. He'll be so happy to see you, and we've already established that doing normal things again is good for you, right?"

"Going for dinner at your house is definitely not normal," Emma replied. She pressed a hand against her temple as she attempted to stop the terrified pounding in it.

It was painful to watch her. Regina didn't know what she could say to make her feel better, so instead she went with the bitter truth. "It's been over a month, Emma. He's miserable with missing you. You can't understand how difficult it is to see him like that every day."

It worked. Emma's eyes went wide, and for the first time in a while she looked totally ashamed of herself.

"Just to clarify," she said slowly. "You're inviting me to your house. To have dinner. With you."

Internally pleading for some patience, Regina replied, "Yes, Miss Swan. That's what I'm asking."

Emma didn't respond for a few moments. Instead, she walked away from her office and across to the other side of the station. When she reached the cells at the back, she gripped two of the bars and leaned forward, closing her eyes. Regina got off the desk and turned to watch her, hoping Emma would talk first so she didn't have to break the silence.

After a few minutes, she realised it wasn't going to happen.

"You're doing much better, Emma," she said softly. When Emma turned her head, Regina was suddenly staring directly at the long scar that ran down her temple. "Henry will be so relieved to see it. And you can... You can probably hug him again by now, can't you?"

Emma nodded sharply. "Yeah. Probably."

She pushed herself off the bars and turned around, leaning back against them with her arms folded.

"I do want to see him. I miss him every single day. But what if he hates me? I'm totally different now and I... I _suck_ as a mother. I abandoned him once when he was a baby and now I've done it all over again. What if it's not the same and he just asks me to leave?"

In spite of everything - the jealousy that Regina felt over their relationship, and the resentment she still felt toward Emma for coming back into Henry's life in the first place - that question broke her heart a little bit.

"That's not going to happen."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I know him. I've known him for 10 years. He loves you and he misses you and, for some godforsaken reason, he's gotten it into his head that... that I miss you too."

She didn't know why she was admitting that last part, but the words slipped out on their own and the startled look on Emma's face almost made it worth it.

"He thinks what?"

"He thinks we should be friends," Regina clarified. "He's decided it would be good for both of us. So I can only imagine how happy it'll make him when he opens the front door to find you there at my invitation."

Emma nodded like this made sense, but her forehead was still creased.

"Do _you_ want us to be friends?"

Regina shouldn't have been surprised by the question, but she'd been hoping it wouldn't get asked all the same.

"Not especially," she said, although there wasn't any bite to her voice. "But even I have to admit that not having to resent and hate you every day of my life might make a nice change. Thinking up ways to kill you can get a little repetitive."

Emma smirked. "Way to sell it to me."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I know," Emma said, leaning her head back against the bars. "Hating you can be really exhausting, and I'm tired enough as it is."

For a second, they simply looked at each other. It took Regina a while to realise that they'd never done that before.

Eventually she had to break the silence, because it was making her heart pound and she didn't like it at all. "So - dinner? Seven o'clock?"

To her immense relief, Emma smiled. It was tiny and weak, but it was there.

"Yeah. Sounds good."

* * *

Regina heard the scream of delight from the hallway before she even had the chance to ask Henry who was at the door. She smiled to herself, then darted over to the oven so she could check her appearance in the reflection.

Two seconds later, she heard footsteps hurrying toward her. She straightened up and went back to the sauce she'd been stirring.

"Mom!" Henry bellowed as he pushed open the kitchen door, dragging a startled-looking Emma behind him. "You invited Emma?"

"Yes, I did," she replied. She opened her mouth to say something else, but before she could a tiny body was colliding with her own. Henry wrapped his arms fiercely around her waist and pressed his forehead into her stomach,

"Thank you."

Regina blinked down at him for a moment before remembering that she was supposed to hug him back. "You're welcome."

When he released her, Regina forced herself to look up and smile at Emma. She was loitering in the doorway, one hand resting awkwardly on the nearest counter. In the other was a bottle of wine.

Regina struggled to focus on any of that, though, because her attention was immediately drawn to Emma's appearance. She'd washed and curled her hair, and although it was much longer than it used to be and was looking slightly scraggly at the ends, it almost resembled Emma's beautiful princess curls as they once were. Her boots had been cleaned and the black button-down shirt she was wearing had been ironed. The only thing wrong with the picture was her face: she looked pale and tired, and the scar on her temple was ruining it all.

But Regina didn't let that show. She just brightened her smile and said, "Miss Swan. I'm glad you could make it."

"Thanks for inviting me," Emma replied on autopilot. She thrust her arm forward. "This is for you."

Regina took the wine off her and pretended not to notice that her hands were shaking. "Wonderful. Thank you. I hope pasta's okay?"

"Pasta's great," Emma replied. Neither of them acknowledged the fact that she wouldn't be eating much of it anyway.

"Come on, Emma," Henry said excitedly, grabbing her hand and tugging her further into the kitchen. "We can help Mom with the food, and then—"

"You can take Miss Swan into the dining room," Regina cut him off. "I'll bring the food through in a moment."

"Really?"

"Regina, please," Emma said. "Let me help."

"No. You're our guest," Regina said, nodding toward the door. "Go on. I'll be there in a second."

Emma looked like she was going to protest again, but then Henry grabbed her wrist and was tugging her away. She threw an apologetic smile over her shoulder as she disappeared out the door.

As soon as they were gone, Regina turned back to the stove and let out a long sigh. Her cheeks already felt hot.

 _Right_ , she thought, turning off the flame. _Here we go._

* * *

For the entirety of the meal, Henry's eyes flicked back and forth across the table. He watched his two mothers closely as they talked to one another - part of him was waiting for the usual shouting to start, but as the evening wore on, he began to realise that that wasn't going to happen.

Regina had one elbow on the table - something that almost never happened during their rigid family dinners - and was holding her wine glass loosely as she listened to Henry's other mother speaking. It was the most she had talked in weeks - they could all tell that from the way her voice was cracking with effort. She was smiling though, which was also new, and was talking animatedly. Every few seconds, a flash of her old self would appear on her face. Regina was watching her with the tiniest of smiles, and she looked relaxed for the first time in months. Her dark eyes were gleaming as she listened.

Henry realised then in a flash of understanding that August had been right - they did like each other, in some weird, screwed-up kind of way. Maybe they weren't friends, but they could be. Regina was the only person who had been able to bring Emma out of her shell, and that meant a lot right then. Some colour had crept back into her cheeks, and her eyes didn't look so dull anymore.

He sat back and considered what this could be like in the long run - having two mothers who didn't hate each other or spend their days bickering and trying to outdo the other, but who might actually enjoy each other's company.

"You've gone quiet, Henry." Regina's voice snapped him out of his daydream and made him jump. He looked up to find both of them watching him. "Is everything okay?"

He smiled - a real, genuine smile that made Regina's chest hurt. "Yeah. Everything's great."

"It's been really good to see you again, kid," Emma said. She hesitated for a second before reaching across the table and squeezing his hand.

"You too. I'm glad that you're finally better."

Emma glanced at Regina. "Well - maybe not totally better yet. But I'm getting there. And coming round to see you guys has definitely helped."

Henry's grin broadened. He turned to Regina, not bothering to hide his smug expression, and said, "I _told_ you it was a good idea."

Emma looked at Regina just in time to see her cheeks go slightly pink. Her eyes were looking down at her wine glass.

"I know you did, Henry. Sometimes I forget how smart you are."

Henry descended into his own chatter, telling his mothers about the latest quiz he'd aced at school. Emma nodded politely, not really listening. She took a sip of her own drink. Her gaze kept straying back to Regina.

* * *

It was 9:30 by the time the table had been cleared and Regina had finished up in the kitchen. She'd left Henry and Emma on the couch 15 minutes earlier. When she walked through the door she was expecting them to be watching a movie, but instead she found them talking with their heads close together. Regina instantly caught the word 'friend'. She caught the word 'queen'.

"Henry," Emma sighed. She was cross-legged and facing her son head-on. "I've told you - I'm not fighting any battles here."

"But it's not a battle - not anymore. Don't you see? That's why it's so perfect. Because you like each other."

"Okay, that's a bit of a stretch."

"But it could work! If the Evil Queen is friends with the saviour, her—"

"Henry," Regina interrupted from the doorway. They both jumped at the sound of her voice. "It's past your bed time."

Henry shifted guiltily away from Emma and got to his feet. Emma, meanwhile, was staring down at the couch, her cheeks burning red.

But then her son moved to her side and waited expectantly. Emma looked up and opened her arms. When he fell into them, Regina breathed a sigh of relief from the other side of the room.

"It was really good to see you," he mumbled against the top of her head. "Maybe you can come back again soon?"

Emma pulled back and smiled up at him. "I'd like that."

"Can I come and see you at the station?"

"When?"

"Tomorrow?"

Emma turned and looked at Regina, waiting for her to nod before going back to her son.

"Sure," she said. "I'll see you then."

She watched as Henry walked across the room and approached Regina, who was still leaning against the doorframe like she was trying to stay out of the way. After a beat, he wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her hard. Regina's hands gingerly found the back of his head and pulled him even closer.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

Regina's heart swelled. "You're welcome. Now get yourself off to bed."

He thundered up the stairs with an excited grin on his face. When he reached the hallway, he grabbed the phone from the console table and snuck it into his bedroom, dialling August's number as he went.

The moment she heard his door click shut, Emma collapsed back against the couch cushions and closed her eyes. The sigh she let out was long and exhausted.

Regina tentatively approached the sofa, not wanting to sit down in case she startled her. After a moment, Emma opened her eyes again and found her hovering awkwardly beside her.

"What?"

Regina smiled. "You look like you could do with a drink."

Sudden relief hit Emma in the stomach like a train. "God. Yes, please."

"Come on," Regina said, gesturing to the next room. She led Emma through the hall and into her study, just like she'd done all those months ago when Emma had first arrived in Storybrooke and changed everything. At the time, it had all been for the worse. Now Regina wasn't so sure.


	11. Chapter 11

"Henry's certainly cheered up," Regina said as she walked over to the drinks cabinet. "It's good to see him smiling again."

Emma had perched herself awkwardly on the very edge of the couch - the same one she'd sat on during her first night in town. "Yeah, it is."

There was a pause as Regina poured out two glasses of scotch. After taking a deep breath, she added, "And you as well."

"Me? What do you mean?"

Regina returned with the two glasses, handing one to Emma before sitting on the couch opposite her. "It was good to see you smiling again."

It was strangely endearing to see Emma blush at that.

"Oh. Yeah. I guess... tonight was one of my better nights," she replied, offering Regina a tiny smile. "I do appreciate you inviting me, you know."

"It's no problem. I'm just glad you came."

"For Henry," Emma clarified.

Regina nodded, her stomach suddenly going tight. "Yes. For Henry."

Emma took a sip of her drink. She was obviously unsure of what to say next, and the silence that fell reminded Regina that the woman sitting opposite her wasn't quite the same one who had come storming into her office five weeks earlier waving a piece of paper. As Emma tentatively sipped at her scotch, she didn't make eye contact. Her posture was hunched and apologetic.

Her cheeks had some more colour in them, though. As hard as Emma had tried to eat the dinner Regina had made for her, she'd failed, but now the alcohol was working its way into her empty stomach and spreading outward like a blanket.

Regina opened her mouth to say something, but Emma surprised her by beating her to it.

"I'm sorry, by the way."

"For what?"

"The fact that Henry's still going on with his whole Evil Queen shtick. I thought he would've given up on that by now."

Regina flinched, just like she always did when she had to blame her son for something that he wasn't in the wrong with. Forcing a gracious smile, she said, "It's alright."

But then she sighed before she could help it, and at once Emma's face crumpled with guilt.

"If it helps," Emma said, trying to mend things even though she didn't need to, "I think he's changed his tactic."

"Really? How so?"

"Well. I think he's realised that this whole 'final battle' thing might be overplaying it a bit," Emma laughed. "So now it looks like my job is just to be nice to you."

Regina laughed right along with her. "The final battle scenario seems a great deal more likely, to be honest. But I'm all ears - what does he expect that to achieve?"

"Well - he seems to think that if the Evil Queen is no longer evil, her curse won't last very long, and being friends with the saviour would definitely have an effect on that. So, seeing as he's decided that you and I are totally buddies now, I guess your curse is weakened. Congratulations."

She expected Regina to chuckle again at that, but instead she fell silent. She was blinking hard.

 _That's ridiculous_ , Regina told herself - nothing could break her curse. Rumplestiltskin had said it himself: _nothing can stop the darkness_. She'd known that all along and there was no way something as insignificant as a friendship could cause cracks to show.

And yet...

 _No_ , she thought, shaking her head. She smiled to ease the confusion that had appeared on Emma's face. _It's nothing. There's no way._

She raised her glass in a mock toast. "Well, I suppose I'll take my victories where I can get them."

Emma smiled back at her and took another sip of scotch. The warmth inside her was beginning to spread, starting in the base of her stomach and pooling outward until it reached her fingertips. At first, she just felt content. Then she realised a gigantic yawn - one she'd been struggling to suppress all evening - was rising up in her jaw.

Regina noticed right away, of course. She'd been eyeing Emma's exhausted expression all evening, so she wasn't surprised by the sudden spasm in the lower half of her face that she was obviously trying to hide.

"Am I keeping you up, Miss Swan?"

"No - sorry," Emma protested, her cheeks going pink. "God, that was so rude. I—"

"It's alright," Regina interrupted gently. She leaned forward. "Should I assume you still aren't sleeping?"

Emma shrugged. "I've never been much of a sleeper anyway."

"True, but there's a difference between sleeping sporadically and not sleeping at all."

"I guess."

It was a lacklustre response, and Regina frowned. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"None of it?"

"Regina, please," Emma groaned, putting her drink down with a clatter. "Let's not do this."

"But I'm trying to help. And we've already established that it is possible for things to go back to normal, even if that happens slowly, so don't you think that talking about it might make a difference?"

Emma's eyes flashed slightly. "No, not really. What do you even want me to talk about?"

"Why you're not able to sleep, mainly."

"Don't you think that what happened to me is a good enough reason for that?" Emma snapped. "Because I think most people would agree that being held at gunpoint and having your ribs kicked in is a pretty good explanation for not wanting to take a power nap every goddamn afternoon."

Regina flinched at the sharpness of her tone, but another part of her was relieved to hear it. Some of the old Emma was still in there, ready to fight with her and bite back, and she'd missed that. She'd missed the exhilarated fire in Emma's eyes whenever she and the mayor butted heads.

But then that fire disappeared as quickly as it had come. Emma slumped back against the cushions. "I just... don't want to talk about it. Any of it."

Regina was disappointed, but she nodded.

"Okay."

Emma looked up sharply. "Really?"

"What?"

"Just, 'okay'?"

"I'm trying to be understanding. Consider it part of my Evil Queen rehabilitation."

Finally, Emma smirked. "Henry will be thrilled to hear it's going so well."

She picked up her drink and took another sip - a longer one this time - and Regina allowed herself to watch her for a second. She appeared slightly calmer, although she also looked exhausted.

Against her better instincts, Regina heard herself saying, "You have nightmares, I assume."

Two green eyes snapped up to look at her again. "What makes you say that?"

"Experience," Regina said simply. "Sleep doesn't come easily when you know what's waiting for you once you get there."

Emma didn't reply, so Regina sighed and added, "I'm not going to tell anyone. I promise. I just want to make sure you're okay."

"You sound like Archie."

"You've been to see him?"

"No," Emma admitted, her cheeks turning red again. "I thought about it. But he was there. In the... the meeting. I'm not sure I can face him."

It was the most she'd ever said aloud about what had happened in City Hall. Regina felt shock rush through her at the admission. "But you see Sidney every day."

"I know, but it's different. Archie was the one who knocked Moe down. He got him off me. I can't imagine going to see him and talking about what a hard time I'm having when he's the one who actually did all of the brave stuff."

Regina blinked, jolting back in her seat. "Sorry - you think Dr Hopper's the hero in this scenario?"

"He saved my ass. I only riled Moe up and made everything so much worse. I probably would have died if Archie hadn't pushed him off me - so yeah, Regina, I'd say he was the hero rather than me."

Regina could barely formulate a response. "How can you _think_ that?"

"You weren't there," Emma said flatly. "I didn't do anything right. I tried to stand up to him and got myself shot. I tried to talk him down and I made him so angry that he threatened to kill Sidney. I did nothing of any use, apart from taking the blows so no one else had to. The only thing he asked me to do was get you there, and I couldn't even do that right."

Regina flinched. Immediately Emma regretted saying it.

"I don't mean I wish I _had_ convinced you to come," she clarified. "It's just... It's Henry."

"Henry?"

"He still thinks I'm the... saviour," Emma said, waving her hand. "He thinks I'm a hero - this knight in shining armour who's going to save everyone - but in that meeting, I was nothing. I nearly got every single person in there killed because I couldn't keep my mouth shut. I would have died myself if Archie hadn't saved me. I'm no hero."

Regina desperately wished she was sitting on the same couch as Emma so she could reach out and squeeze her hand. Instead, she had to settle for leaning as far forward as possible and fixing Emma with her hardest stare. "Emma. There's no right way to deal with a situation like that. And you _did_ save everyone, no matter what you say. No one else has so much as a scratch."

With a disparaging roll of her eyes, Emma said, "That's not the point. I was so pathetic, and everyone saw it. Everyone saw the goddamn guidance councillor save my life."

"And what exactly did they do that was so heroic and brave?" Regina demanded. "They weren't judging you, Emma, and even if they were, they had no right to. You took a bullet in your shoulder to make sure no one else got hurt. And you saved _me_. Don't you realise how incredible that is?"

Emma just shrugged, draining the rest of her glass in one go. She didn't even shudder as it went down, and maybe it was that which pushed Regina to finally get up and walk round to the other sofa.

She sat down next to Emma, carefully leaving a few inches of space between them, and looked sternly at her.

"You need to listen to me now, Miss Swan," she said, making sure Emma was meeting her gaze before she continued. "Because I'm about to be nice to you, and it may never happen again."

Emma let out a laugh that sounded vaguely like she was being choked. "Okay. Go ahead."

"You're right," Regina conceded. "I wasn't there, and I can't possibly understand what you went through or how you reacted or how people were looking at you for it. But I wasn't there because _you_ stopped me from being there, and I can't thank you enough for that, because I wouldn't have been able to do half of what you did that day. I wouldn't have been able to defend a room full of people by myself, nor would I have been able to take every single one of your injuries without so much as a whimper of complaint even weeks later. And I certainly wouldn't have been able to find myself in the situation where I had to call the woman I hated most in the world, giving myself the opportunity to both get myself out of harm's way and place her in it instead, and yet do the opposite. You made sure I knew something was wrong, and you made sure I didn't get caught up in it myself."

"That's not exactly true," Emma said weakly. "I did tell you to come. You figured out that something was wrong on your own."

"Fine," Regina huffed. "You did as he asked so he wouldn't shoot Sidney in his useless head. But it would have been so easy for you to get me there if you'd wanted to - you know exactly how to irritate me, and you could have lured me in with less than 10 words. But you didn't. You put my safety above your own and you gave me a signal and then you got hurt for it. And _that's_ what makes you the hero that Henry sees - the fact that you take absolutely zero shit from a bully. It's something that's always annoyed me because it meant you never took any shit from me either, but it's also exactly the reason why Henry respects you so much. Dr Hopper might have saved you eventually, Emma, but you saved everyone else. Including me. And that's something I'll never be able to understand, but I'll always be grateful for."

Emma barely blinked as Regina spoke. Her eyes were darting from left to right, taking in Regina's determined expression and her moving lips and the way her gaze was slightly fiery. She wasn't sure someone had ever spoken to her so sincerely before, and she didn't know how she was supposed to respond. She kind of wanted to hug her, but she suspected that doing so might make both of them cry.

Instead, she focused on something slightly less terrifying. "Did you just use a curse word?"

Regina looked flatly back at her.

"Seriously? That's what you're taking away from this conversation?"

"Not exactly - I'm just a bit shocked. That was the easiest thing to try and address first."

Regina smiled tightly. Her heart was pounding from the adrenaline of letting all those words pour out, and part of her was actually grateful for the moment of silence that followed them. The other part, though, was desperately nervous. She never let her feelings spew out of her like that, and she wasn't sure what had suddenly come over her. If Emma didn't respond properly, she might never be able to face her again.

She watched Emma stare down at her own knees. She was chewing on her lip as she tried to sift through the thoughts crashing around between her throbbing temples, and she was all too aware of the gaze that was resting on her face. The steady burn of Regina's dark brown eyes made her feel warm and jittery all at once.

"Thank you," she eventually managed to say. Her voice was quiet and it took a few moments before she could look up and meet Regina's gaze. "Really. I... don't know what else to say. Just, thank you."

"It's the truth," Regina replied softly.

"Some of it. You put a hell of a spin on it."

"Well – it was the only compliment I was ever going to give you. It had to be good."

Emma found herself grinning. It was even more surprising when Regina smiled back at her, her face suddenly bright and open.

It was a weirdly perfect moment, and it was only ruined because Emma suddenly caught sight of the clock.

"Oh," she groaned. "I should probably get going. I promised Mary Margaret I wouldn't be home too late."

"She sounds like your mother," Regina replied before she could stop herself. She almost bit her tongue off as soon as the words were out, but Emma just laughed.

"Depending on who you ask, she is," she said, tilting her head from left to right to ease the ache in her neck. "She's still worried about me. I think she doesn't want me wandering into a bar and then getting out of control and ending up comatose under the toll bridge."

In spite of everything, Regina found herself feeling grateful that Mary Margaret was still looking out for her. She'd rather die than admit it out loud, though.

"In that case, don't tell her I gave you scotch - I'm not fooled by that demure schoolteacher appearance for a moment. I think she could throw a pretty solid punch."

Emma stood up, laughing to herself. She reached into her pocket as she moved, trying to fish out her car keys, but as soon as she was upright she felt herself swaying slightly. The one glass of whisky swirled around her head and threatened to topple her to the floor.

"Oh," she said, trying to steady herself. "Right."

Regina tsked and stood up to join her. "And on an empty stomach - you're a complete liability. Shall I call you a cab?"

"No, I'm good. I can walk."

"You're sure?" Regina asked, looking out at the darkness beyond the open curtains. "I can walk with you, if you like."

Emma smiled at the offer. "I'll be fine. It's not far."

Regina wasn't convinced, but there wasn't much she could do except walk Emma into the hall and hope that her anxiety wasn't showing.

Once the door was open, Emma stepped out onto the porch and turned back with an awkward smile on her face.

"Thanks again," she said, tucking her hair behind one ear. It was a nervous habit that Regina had never fully appreciated until that moment. "For inviting me, and for... you know. The other thing."

Leaning against the doorframe, Regina replied, "You're welcome. I meant it - all of it."

"I know," Emma said. It was weird that she wasn't lying - considering that she'd never trusted Regina before, she trusted her a hell of a lot right at that second.

As they locked eyes, Regina saw that faith burning deep inside her. It made something catch in her throat.

She smiled weakly, wishing she could say something else that would make Emma feel just that tiniest bit better, but her blood was rushing through her temples and she couldn't think of anything beyond telling her how nice it was to actually get to know her at last.

She didn't say it, and she regretted it as soon as the moment passed.

"I'll come and get my car tomorrow," Emma said.

"That's fine," Regina replied, her voice slightly rusty. The expression on her face made Emma hesitate - it looked strangely like longing, and it made her heart skip.

But then it shifted, brushed away and covered by the cool expression of a mayor who didn't long after anyone.

"Goodnight then, Miss Swan," she said, taking a step back like she needed room to breathe. "Get home safe."

Emma nodded sharply and turned away, walking down the path with her sleeves pulled over her hands. There was a lump in her throat that felt a lot like sadness. She didn't understand it, and she didn't like it.

When the front door clicked shut behind her, the path suddenly went dark. A familiar panic washed over her. Emma had felt brave 30 seconds earlier, when Regina had been looking at her like she could do anything and more - but now she was alone on a deserted street, and that niggling sense that something bad was about to happen crept up on her again. She straightened her shoulders and tried to ignore it.

 _You always feel like this_ , she told herself as she walked toward the gate. _And it's always nothing._

She took another step. When she heard a noise, her entire body froze.

As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she realised she could see something at the end of the path. Half hidden behind one of the bushes that sat either side of Regina's gate was a figure. A person.

A man.

Emma's limbs went cold and stiff. She felt every inch of her body stop working simultaneously - her lungs dried up, her muscles turned solid, and her legs went so numb that she felt like she was hovering a few inches above the ground.

 _Run_ , some part of her screamed. _Move, Emma!_

But the man moved first. He took a step out from behind the bush, and all at once Emma felt herself sink under a wave of terror that threatened to choke her.

She staggered backward, her foot landing awkwardly on the damp stone and immediately slipping. She might have been able to catch herself if her legs were stronger, but right then they were shaky and weak and she instantly crumpled to the ground.

She hit the path hard, the pain jolting through her hip and up her spine, but through it she managed to look up and see that the man was still there. He was looking right at her, and he wasn't going away.

When he stepped forward, a noise came out of Emma's mouth that she'd never made before. It was a scream that terrified even her, and it echoed down the street like a car alarm. The man staggered back at once, dropping something with a loud clatter that only made Emma's heard thud harder. She screamed again, scrabbling backward, the stone floor cold and damp under her palms.

Then, from behind her, she heard another noise. Quick footsteps - high heels on wood. The front door opened and light streamed down the path, and Regina looked over the threshold to find Emma sprawled on the ground with mud on her jeans and terrified tears in her eyes.

Without thinking, Regina hurried forward and crouched beside her, reaching out to grab her arm. Emma didn't flinch - she melted into the touch, her entire body shaking under her fingers.

That was when Regina heard a startled cough from ahead of them, and she snapped her head up to see who was there.

"Sidney," she hissed as soon as she laid eyes on him. He was staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the pair of them, his hands clutching the empty air in front of him. At his feet was a camera. It had shattered and was spilling across the path in puddles of glass and sharp plastic.

When he didn't speak, Regina gripped Emma's arm harder and barked, "What the hell are you doing here?"

He opened his mouth to respond, and it was at precisely that moment that Regina realised she didn't want to hear what he had to say. Beside her, Emma was still shaking and sniffing back tears. There wasn't any excuse he could give that would make that better.

"Don't," Regina cut him off before he could start, gesturing with a sharp jerk of her chin for him to go. "Get off my path. Right now."

"I'm sorry," he stammered, taking a step forward. His foot crunched over the broken glass on the floor, and Emma instantly flinched at the sound.

"Go!" Regina forced out through gritted teeth. Finally, Sidney did as he was told. He turned and fled, his long coat flapping behind him as he disappeared into the darkness.

As soon as he was gone, Regina wrapped an arm around Emma's shoulders and pulled her close. Emma didn't resist - she leaned into Regina's side and let out a shaky breath, still fighting back the tears that she promised she'd never let anybody see.

"Come on," Regina said. "Back inside."

Emma didn't argue with that either. She let Regina help her up off the floor and guide her into the house. She didn't mind that Regina's arm stayed around her shoulders as they walked, nor that this reminded her all too vividly of another night several weeks earlier. As they headed into the living room, neither of them noticed the small figure sitting in his pyjamas at the top of the stairs.

"Sit," Regina said as she led Emma over to the couch. In the bleak light of the house, she could see just how pale she was: her skin was clammy and almost translucent, the thick scar that ran down her temple cutting through it like a trench. "I'm going to get you some water."

Emma nodded sharply and sat down, clasping her hands between her thighs. Regina rushed into the kitchen and poured the glass as quickly as she could, barely noticing when it overflowed and spilled onto her hand. As she walked back into the living room and sat down beside Emma, she realised she was trembling.

"Here."

A hand that was twice as shaky as her own reached out to take the drink. "Thanks."

The silence that fell between them was only interrupted by the sound of Emma desperately gulping down water, her teeth clinking against the glass. Regina waited patiently, wanting to reach out and grab Emma's hand but forcing herself to stay still.

There was a question she was dreading being asked. As soon as Emma put the half-empty glass onto the coffee table and exhaled, Regina knew it was coming anyway.

"What was he _doing_ here?"

It was almost rhetorical. Emma wasn't even looking at Regina as she asked it - she was staring down at her shaking hands, wondering whether they'd always been so grey and boney, and she'd asked it because the thought happened to pop into her head. She wasn't expecting Regina to know the answer.

But when her words were met with thick silence that swelled and rippled, she paused. She turned her head and found Regina deliberately looking anywhere else but at her.

Emma paused.

"Regina?" she asked quietly. "What was he doing here?"

Regina glanced up at her, her heart squeezing. She opened her mouth to reply - to lie and say she didn't know; to pretend he was coming round for a meeting; to make up some other unbelievable excuse that might ease Emma's confusion. She didn't know which. But then her eyes met Emma's probing green ones and she faltered, the excuses slipping away from her.

The moment she pressed her lips together again, Emma inhaled and edged back on the couch. "He had a _camera_."

Regina tried again. It should have been so easy - _He's an idiot, Miss Swan. He was probably out birdwatching at nighttime_. Regina was adept at lying and even better at not caring about who she might hurt by doing so, but right then, with Emma looking uncertainly back at her, she suddenly lost her nerve. It was impossible to force a lie out when the woman sitting opposite her had already been hurt so badly by her own hand.

"Regina," Emma said eventually, hating herself for how pleading she sounded. "Please tell me he wasn't spying on me."

When Regina still didn't reply, Emma swallowed and repeated that one word. "Please."

But Regina just looked at her with an expression that begged for forgiveness before she'd even managed to speak. At once, Emma's stomach plummeted. She didn't say another word before she got to her feet and walked over to the closed door.

"No, wait," Regina blurted out, jumping up and grabbing her wrist. "Please - I can explain."

Emma tried to yank her arm free. "Get off me."

"No - please, Emma. Please. Listen to me."

"Get _off_ ," Emma repeated, realising with a rising panic that Regina was a lot stronger than she'd ever given her credit for. The grip on her wrist was unyielding, and even though when Emma snapped her head round she could see there was no malice in Regina's face - only panic and total desperation - she still felt her body go cold from terror. The door was closed and she was trapped and there was no one there to save her this time.

"Let me explain," Regina said, not noticing Emma's fear because she was so focused on her own. "After the sheriff election - you and I were still fighting, and Sidney... I asked him to keep an eye on you. I didn't trust you and—"

"You didn't trust _me_?" Emma demanded, trying yet again to pull her arm free. The air was escaping the room and she needed to get out with it.

"But it's not like that anymore!" Regina insisted. "Since City Hall... I've been worried about you and I forgot he was still following you."

"So you're telling me that he's been spying on me for weeks and you had no idea?"

"I... Not exactly," Regina admitted. "He reminded me recently and I thought..."

"You thought what? _What_? That you could just use your little puppet as a fucking informer on me and I'd be too stupid to notice?"

Emma was looking at her with an expression that nearly destroyed her. Regina swallowed hard, trying to arrange the words properly. "I was worried about you and I wanted to make sure you were okay. I asked him to keep an eye on you and let me know how you were doing, but I didn't know he was still following you or taking photos. I promise, Emma. I didn't tell him to do that."

Whether it was the truth or not didn't matter: Emma's eyes were wild and betrayed, and they were saying the one thing that Regina didn't want to hear.

_I thought I could trust you._

When Emma didn't respond, Regina insisted, "I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"Then _ask_!" Emma exploded, finally managing to wrench her wrist free of Regina's grip. "That's what normal people do, Regina! You even managed to do it yourself a couple of times, so why did you think something like this would be okay?"

"I don't know. I wasn't thinking," Regina tried desperately. "I knew I couldn't follow you to work every day, so I thought—"

"You thought you'd let someone else do the dirty work for you."

"I was trying to _help_. I just wanted to know you were okay."

"Well, guess what? I'm not. I've never been less okay. God, you seriously tried to convince me that everything was alright and I didn't need to be scared anymore, and then you went behind my back and did this? I _told_ you how alone I felt." Emma's voice suddenly cracked. It was the first time she'd spoken about the night Regina had found her on the kitchen floor, and it just made the betrayal in her voice sound even sharper. "But no wonder I feel like I'm in a dark room all the time. It's because people like you keep pushing me into them."

She turned and wrenched the door open, leaving Regina floundering behind her for a moment before she realised she could follow her. By the time she was out in the hall, Emma was already at the front door.

"Emma, please," Regina called after her, but a second later she was gone. She slammed the door hard enough to make Regina's keys shake in their bowl.

The house fell oddly silent as Emma stormed down the path. Regina was left standing in the middle of the hall, one hand still reached out like she was hoping she could touch Emma's shoulder and lure her back. Something cold and prickly was swirling round in her stomach and it was starting to make her feel nauseous.

When she realised that there were tears pricking at her eyes, she swallowed and walked over to her office. She shut the door behind her with a gentle click.

At the top of the stairs, Henry sat with his forehead pressed between two of the banister rails. The rest of the evening - his mothers' soft chatter, their smiles, their hesitant attempt at friendship - vanished from his memory as he replayed the image of Emma storming out with tears in her eyes over and over and over again.

He realised after a moment that he could hear his mother sniffing and crying in her office, but he didn't go down. Not because he didn't want to see her - because he knew without question that she wouldn't be able to face him.


End file.
